Brothers in Arms II: The Balkan Inferno
by Jack Hector Kamiya
Summary: Sequal to Brothers in Arms: Eastern World Exploding. Summary available on the first chapter and on my page. Set a year after the final chapter of my last story. Rated M for reasons explained at th end of the summary. Chapter 19 is coming soon.
1. Chapter 1: History of the South Slavs

IMPORTANT: If you have not read Brothers in Arms: Eastern World Exploding, please exit this story and read it

**IMPORTANT:** If you have not read Brothers in Arms: Eastern World Exploding, please exit this story and read it. This is the sequel and may not make much sense if you didn't read the first story.

**Summary:** It is the February 2012, roughly one year and two months since the Second Korean War ended. 5th squad has long since return to their homes and started to return to normal lives, but continue their status as reservists. US President Michelle Smith Crane must set her sights on the US Presidential National Election in November. The Soviet Union is currently going under changes with its new Politburo. Japan is currently enjoying their new status as a world power and the most dominate navy in the West Pacific. With China licking her wounds from their losses in the war and North Korea in no position to be any threat, the world turns its attention to Eastern Europe and the Balkans. Yugoslavia, with Serbia as its leading nation of the Socialist Federal Republic, demands that what they call a 'sham' government in Kosovo step down and rejoin Serbia as they should. Kosovo openly declares it will not falter in the face of Serbian aggression and requested backing from their NATO allies get the Yugoslavians to back off and to protect the rightful sovereignty of Kosovo and protect it from genocidal tactics used by the Serbians. Yugoslavia requests aid from their closest ally, the Soviet Union, to send troops to pressure Kosovo. As all of NATO and the USSR begin to face the reality that the Third World War may start in the chaotic Balkan Peninsula, 5th squad and many other familiar faces prepare for the worst. What will be come of Harima and his brothers and sisters in arms as they enter a new and strange world thousands of miles from home?

Rated Mature: Extreme Violence, Extreme and Graphic Language, Offensive Statements, Graphic Descriptions of War and War Crimes, Adult Themes, Sexual References

Well people it's here. The sequel. Now I've taken some inspiration from Tom Clancy's Red Storm Rising in that this story doesn't not immediately jump to war. I also would like to think that returning readers would be patient for a little bit. Besides there will still be action and I think a lot of you enjoy reading about civilian life. Like with my last story, this first chapter will be a history summary. Get ready to learn about the history of Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia, Kosovo, and Yugoslavia. You'll also learn about the Turkish Ottoman Empire, a little about Rome, World War I, World War II, a war or two I made up, the Yugoslav War, Bosnia War, Kosovo War, Serbia-Croatia War, and several other wars that happened pretty much at the same time. I know some of you are European so you guys may already know about the history of the Balkans, but the average American probably couldn't find it on a map (southeastern Europe). This is for their benefit so bare with me while I educate my countrymen and women (if I have female readers cause I suspect I don't have many).

As usually I didn't proofread this too well, but I'll get to it one day long with proofreading my last story.

I don't own any trademarked or copywrite item. Please tell a friend and leave a review. If you know any of my other readers be sure to tell them the sequel is up.

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**Chapter 1: History of the South Slavs**

"There were and always will be, eternally, migrations as there will

Always be births for life to continue.

Migration exists.

Death does not exist!"

Migrations by Miloš Crnjanski, Serbian author

**2100 Hours; February 5****th****, 2012; Shinhachi Residence, Kirkland; Washington State, United States of America**

Colonel John Saito Shinhachi sat at his desk and looked at his computer screen. He was preparing a report for the idiots in the Delta Force intelligence wing's office. The lazy bastards wouldn't pick up a freaking text book or the book he recommended. It was a good book called The Serbs by Tim Judah (1).

There were the rustle papers and he looked up at his fiancée Emma Hannah Heckler. She was going to be 22 this year and so would he. They planned to get married after they completed their final year at Seattle University. Emma was fast asleep and snoring lightly. She caught a cold early in the week, but still worked on her manga. Currently, she was brainstorming for new ideas and Jack new better than to get in her way and tell her to get more sleep. Emma was strong willed and Jack had taught her martial arts and use of firearms a little too well. Plus Emma was related to the Heckler family of Heckler & Koch, the German weapons producers that were only rivaled in Europe by the Belgian company Fabrique Nationale de Herstal and the Russian company Izhevsk Mechanical Works. That boiled down to her being able to acquire top of the line guns.

Jack sighed and looked at his report. If this didn't get a clear picture to the intel wing he was going to report them to the Counter-Intelligence Field Activity (CFIA) for gross incompetence. This was supposed to be for new officers and operators that would be deployed to the Balkan Peninsula.

"The origins of the Socialist Federation Republic of Yugoslavia go back centuries to Roman times.

They were called the White Serbs and they came from northern Europe with the rest of the Great Slav Migration. It is not entirely clear what triggered the Serbs movement south or why, but they and another group called the Croats moved south with other nomadic tribes. Before the migration southward, little is known about either the Croats or Serbs. The Croats are believed to have come from the Carpathian Mountains and the Serbs are known to have come from western Poland.

They arrived in 630 AD in southeastern Europe, a mountainous region known as the Balkan Peninsula or Balkans. This land was ruled by the crumbling remains of the Eastern Roman Empire which was being called the Byzantine Empire at this point.

The Serbs over the next few decades were being Christianized by the Byzantines who were Orthodox Christians. They settled in the black mountains or as they called it "Montenegro". They made a few small kingdoms like Raška and Zeta across modern day Montenegro, Kosovo, Bosnia, and Serbia.

The Serbs found themselves repeatedly at war with their neighbors, particularly the Byzantine Empire even though they were technically under rule by the Byzantines. Raška emerged as the first united Serb state that we recognize and its leaders search for ways to make it independent from the Byzantine leaders who ruled from Constantinople, today called Istanbul.

The Croats during the mid-7th Century were Christianized by Pope John IV who sent an abbot named Martin to the Principality of Dalmatia, the Croats established kingdom. The Croats too lived under Byzantine Empire, but they made agreements to fight the rising Bulgarian Empire.

For the next few hundred years the Balkans went through several wars.

In 1166, Stefan Nemanja is the first major leader that emerged from the Slavic tribes that pretty much dominated the Balkans. The fact the Slavs outnumbers the Byzantines worked in their favor, but they never united.

Nemanja rose quickly and like Raška leaders before him tried to take on the Byzantine Empire. He was defeated and force to surrender. He was made a puppet king under the Byzantine Emperor's rule. However the emperor died and Nemanja launched a quick uprising that seized Zeta, Kosovo, and parts of modern-day Macedonia. The Byzantines were unable to reclaim their lost lands.

For the Croats, in 925 AD, the Kingdom of Croatia was born. The Croats fought with the Byzantines against the Bulgarians. From their victory in Bosnia, the Croats established decent relationships with the Byzantine Empire. In 1072, Krešimir IV leader of the Croats assisted a joint Serb-Bulgarian uprising against their Byzantine masters.

It is very important to note that alliances and sides can change very quickly in the Balkans if it is in their benefit.

In 1074, the Byzantines launched a vicious campaign to attack the Croats. Krešimir IV's reign ended and the Croats returned to Byzantine rule for two centuries. This was with great resentment because the Byzantine were Orthodox and the Croats were Catholics from Abbot Martin's work on behalf of the Pope.

In 1093, Ladislaus I, a Hungarian king was left the throne to parts of Croatia after some of the regional leaders were killed. He led the Hungarians into north Croatia to claim his throne. In response, the Byzantine emperor, Emperor Alexius I attack the Hungarians. In 1102 the Byzantines were defeated and Croatia was made part of the rising Hungarian Empire, but with their own king. The Croats enjoyed a certain autonomy from their ruling nation.

By the 1300s the Byzantine Empire was defeated and placed by new and greater threat, the Turkish Ottoman Empire.

The Serbs, and the rest of the Slavs, were unfortunately divided between various feudal leaders who did not unite quickly enough to fight the massive and highly advance Ottoman war machine.

The most powerful of the Serb leaders, Vukašan Mrnjavčević, led his army against the Ottomans and was killed in the Battle of Maritsa in the year 1371. The Turks were like no other invader the Serbs had faced. They were not Christians, they were Muslims, which greatly upset the Pope and the Serbian Orthodox Church and most of Europe. The Ottomans also had a regular army, which was unusual for its time when most militaries were made up of mercenaries. The Ottomans also made a much larger use of gunpowder than the European armies they faced. The Turks had infantry firearms and cannons. Some cannons were able to fire projectiles the size of a golf ball and the largest could fire shells the size of trashcans.

In 1389, under strong Hungarian encouragement, a combined group of Bosnian and Serbian soldiers in the Battle of Kosovo fought the Ottoman armies. The Serbs gained an early advantage in breaking the Ottoman's left flank, but failing to break the center and right flank. The Ottomans, who wore less armor than the Serbians, were able to maneuver faster and crushed the Serbians and Bosnians with the center and right flanks that the Serbs had failed to destroy. Kosovo marked the beginning of Ottoman domination of the Balkans that would rule for the next few centuries. Many Serbs fled Kosovo and over the years Albanians would slowly occupy Kosovo. The Ottomans would crush the Kingdom of Hungary and push deeper into Europe.

In 1402 the Ottoman Turks were distracted by Tamerlane, a Mongol leader who attacked from deeper in Asia. Tamerlane was one of the last leaders of the falling Mongol Empire created by Genghis Khan. Afterwards the Ottomans would return to invading Europe until their defeat by the combined forces of Austria, Saxony (German state), Bavaria (German state), Polish-Lithuania Commonwealth, Franconia, Swabia, and Zaporizhian Sich at the Battle of Vienna in 1683.

Afterwards the northern frontier of the Balkans was made into a buffer-zone between Christian Europe and Ottoman occupied Europe. The irony is that the Balkan factions were never more united in their fight against the Ottomans until the World Wars of the 20th Century.

In the 1700s the Austrio-Hungarian Empire took on the Turkish Ottoman Empire which like many empires before was crumbling with age. In the Dubica War (1788-1791) the Ottomans were weakened even more and no more wars were fought until the next century, but the Ottomans still control Serbia. After multiple revolutions the Ottomans gave semi-autonomy to Serbia in 1829 and Greece full autonomy. In November 1849, northern Serbia was annexed as part of the Austrio-Hungarian Empire.

In 1877 the Serbians found themselves fighting along side the Russian Empire against their old enemy the Ottoman Turks. In turn the Russians helped the Serbians with their struggle against the Ottomans.

It should be noted that the 1877-1878 Russo-Turkish War marks the beginning of the long standing relationship between Russia and Serbia. Serbia has a long history of backstabbing its allies when convenient and never stayed in long relations with other nations, but they have remained loyal friends of Russia even after its transition to the Soviet Union. Although they had a falling out later on, and the Soviets are far more powerful than the Serbians, they stayed about as close as Serbia had been with any other nation.

Russia and Serbia share a common idealism called Pan-Slavism, united Slavic World. Eastern Europe has generally been long behind Western Europe in technology, science, and culture. The Slavs have often been made to feel inferior by the West or Ottomans and subjected to their rule. The idea is that the Slavs of the world, which would be every country east of Germany and west of the Ural Mountains and north of Greece. Russia and Serbia have historically been the most ambitious. They were also both Orthodox and shared a desire to crush the Germanic nations like Austria, Germany, and England. By association with England, we the United States are included.

By the 20th Century the Balkans was highly unstable. The Ottomans had withdrawn mostly back to Turkey. Austrio-Hungary was facing anarchist attacks, which we today would call terrorism, on a huge scale. Tensions in Europe were rising and the Serbians weren't helping as Europe turned into a bomb waiting for something to set it off.

Chief of Serbian Military Intelligence Dragutin Dimitriević had ordered Serbians to assassinated Austrian heir to the throne Archduke Francis Ferdinand and his wife Sophie Chotek. On June 28, 1914, both the Archduke and his wife were killed by a single man with a revolver and the world would never be the same.

This would be the equivalent of if the Irish Republican Army were to assassinate a member of the British Royal Family or if Soviet KGB agents were to assassinate our President. It would be an act of war that would get a totally enraged response.

The Serbians had started World War I which would be unmatched until September 1, 1939 when the Germans invaded Poland and started World War II. Russia would come to Serbia's defense, another note of the two nations' closeness. This would later trigger Germany into war followed by France, Belgium, Holland, the Ottoman Empire, Bulgaria, the United Kingdom, and near the end the United States.

In 1918 the Balkans were for the first time completely free of foreign rule. They formed a constitutional monarchy with the Serbian capital of Belgrade as its capital. It would be called the Kingdom of Yugoslavia or the Kingdom of the South Slavs. It incorporated Croatia, Bosnia, Slovenia, and Serbia (which included Kosovo and Montenegro).

The Kingdom of Yugoslavia was plagued by corruption and outside influence. Countries like Great Britain manipulated Yugoslavian politics because they feared they may set off a second great war. Even today the Europeans fear the Balkans could set off mass violence. Serbia thinks this is unfair, but they did start a world war in their attempts to rid Austrio-Hungarian control.

In 1943, the forth year of World War II, Nazi Germany invaded Yugoslavia. The Yugoslavians soon learned that the Nazis hated many of the people living in the Balkans. Nazi doctrine considered Slavs, gypsies, and many others who lived in Yugoslavia as "undesirables" and shipped many of them off with Jews to camps. Known as the "Final Solution of the Jewish Question" by the Nazis, they started working towards mass liquidation of the groups they deemed undesirables. Known as the Holocaust today, it would live a lasting impact in the Balkans that makes German-Yugoslavian negotiations nearly impossible. (2)

In all fairness Germany has not made many efforts to deal with Yugoslavia, but in fairness to the Germans strongly dislike the Soviet Union and its allies.

In 1945 the Soviet Union invaded the Balkans to drive out the Nazis. Unlike any invasion before, the Soviets were Slavs like the Yugoslavians. It did not even come across as an invasion to the Yugoslavians, but was seen as liberation by their Russian friends.

In 1947 the Soviet Union invaded West Germany and attacked the newly formed North Atlantic Treaty Organization (3). Under pressure from Stalin, the Yugoslavians joined Soviet troops pushing to attack a broken and exhausted combined force of American and British soldiers in Munich. In December 1947 the Soviets found themselves fighting not just Americans and British, but the newly formed Bundeswehr (Federal Forces) of Federal Republic of Germany. The Federal Republic of Germany was not a recognized nation by either the Soviets or NATO, but NATO was desperate and allowed thousands of German soldiers to defend their prized city of Munich. Around Christmas the Germans were given fuel that they were denied by NATO for the early stages of the war. With the fuel the Germans were able mobilized a panzer division that had been sitting idle outside of Munich with nothing to power their armor. The Yugoslavians were thrown back by a huge German lead counter-attack and were pursued out of Germany and across Austria.

In 1953 Ivan Ribar, who was in charge of Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia since its foundation, was replaced by a Croatian man named Josip Broz Tito who would probably be the strongest leader the Balkans ever saw.

It is once said by a Serbian that Tito "warmed them like the sun". Tito liked the Soviets, but didn't want to be subservient. They formed their own version of communism sometimes called Titoist-Communism or Titoism. Tito was powerful because he was able to keep all the factions of Yugoslavia united under the motto:Bratstvo i Jedinstvo (Brotherhood and Unity).

Tito and Stalin did not speak much after the breakaway of Yugoslavia from the USSR, much like China's falling out in the 1950s and 60s. Tito however did strengthen Soviet-Yugoslav ties with the passing of Stalin and the coming of later Soviet leaders who were more willing to coexist with Yugoslavia in an attempt to unite the Slavic nations. Between the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic (USSR), the Warsaw Pact (WP), and Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY), they had achieved Pan-Slavism.

The SFRY started break up in the 1980s as the USSR and USA headed into economic slumps.

Upon Tito's death, ethnic tensions rose and reached the boiling point.

Serbian President Slobodan Milošević is considered the beginning of the end of the SFRY. He started an ethnic cleansing against non-Serbs in Yugoslavia. Ethnic cleansing was not phrase not in use at that time but would become common place in describing what was to follow.

Milošević started a campaign of genocide in the Serbian Autonomous Province of Kosovo. Kosovo was over 90-percent Albanian and barely 9-percent Serb. The Kosovars resented being ruled and pretty much oppressed by the Serb minority. They attempted to protest and were violently assaulted by Serbian soldiers and police. Many Kosovars were kicked out of the government for being Albanian and were replaced by Serbs. As Milošević's campaign turned violent the Kosovars revolted. Serbia responded with armed force.

In 1991 Croatia had pulled fellow Croatians out of the Yugoslavian Army and forming Croatia's own military. Slovenia and Macedonia declared independence from the SFRY. What was left of Yugoslavia, which was Serbia-Montenegro, started to engage in open combat with the Croatians.

The Socialist Republic of Bosnia & Herzegovina was a melting pot and once was a prime example of "Brotherhood and Unity". Its capital Sarajevo once held the Olympics and was a jewel of the Balkans. The Slavs that had been converted to Islam by the Ottomans were concentrated in Bosnia. Many Croats lived in the northwest and Serbs across the north and east of the country. Slavic-Muslims found themselves becoming the victims of a horrific campaign led by the Serbians. Muslim men were arrested and murdered. Women were raped systemically, literally entire regiments were sent in to capture a town and rape women. Muslims condemn abortion and would have the child, even if the father was the mother's rapist. The Serbian's logic was that these children would not be Muslims, they would be Serbs. The international community was horrified in ways even the Holocaust hadn't done.

On November 27, 1991 the United Nations passed US Security Resolution 721 stating that Yugoslavia was breaking up and beyond help or international intervention. Most countries not inclined to help Serbia. Peacekeepers were authorized to deploy to Bosnia & Herzegovina and Kosovo to intervene in Serbian acts of war crimes. Soldiers, primarily NATO troops, arrived and engaged Serbian soldiers. The United States launched a massive air offensive against Serbia. By 1992 the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia was no longer considered a sovereign nation and its members were granted independence.

In 1999 Russian troops arrived in the Balkans with the promise they would prevent Kosovo from breakaway from Serbia. They were quickly rebuffed by NATO who outnumbered the Russian peacekeepers.

In March of 2002 Montenegro and Serbia broke up into two separate nations.

The International Court in Amsterdam, Holland, demanded that Serbia and Croatia turn over men responsible for genocide and mass-rape in Bosnia and Kosovo.

In 2008, the United Nations ruled that rape was a war crime in a category of its own as a result of the atrocities in Bosnia. It is considered equal to genocide.

On February 17, 2008 the Republic of Kosovo which had been under UN rule and protected by a NATO coalition since 1999. In mid-June of 2010, Kosovo was made part of NATO ensure its survival and in February 2011 Kosovo was allowed to join the European Union with Albanian. Foreign troops are being withdrawn to only 8 regiments. Both Serbia and Russia claim Kosovo's independence was not legal by international law. Being part of NATO makes Kosovo difficult attack without drawing out all of NATO and being part of the EU gives them strong economic and political ties to more powerful European allies.

The Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia lasted as long as it had because of Tito. Yugoslavia was not a united collection of socialist states like the Soviet Union. It was basically a loose confederacy that only worked with a strong leader that all were willing to cooperate with. They did not have strong Yugoslavian nationalism. People were more loyal to their individual states. Yugoslavia also did not have a centralized economy like the USSR or EU.

Yugoslavia was also once supposed to be a buffer-zone for the Soviets. While it would not stop Germans coming across the Polish border or the French and British sailing across the North Sea and into the White Sea, it would discourage the Italians, Albanians, Greeks, and Turks. By the 1980s, the East and West felt secure enough that Yugoslavia was no longer of strategic importance. As Yugoslavia fell apart, the Soviets saw it more as a problem than something for national defense.

Finally, Yugoslavia's in-fighting shows its internal weakness and the contempt the states had for each other, particularly Serbia and Croatia.

(Following events appear from my first story)

In late-July 2010 while NATO was locked in the Korean War (June 25, 1950 - November 25, 2010) (4), Ante Mikosvič, President of Serbia, declared war against the former-Yugoslav states. While NATO was locked in war in Asia, the Serbians formed a coalition with the Montenegrins and invaded Macedonia, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Croatia, and Slovenia.

By the time the war had ended, Mikosvič had formed a military-dictatorship similar to that in Burma or various parts of Africa. The State Department has noticed the Soviet Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Viktor Grigoryevich Menzhinsky, is visiting Belgrade often in the past year…"

Shinhachi paused. This file was for the people in Ft. Bragg. They wouldn't have as high security clearance as they need to know some details. They knew Menzhinsky was merely a puppet and the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) thought he was a lapdog for someone in the Standing Politburo. The General-Secretary, Minister of Defense, Minister of the Committee for State Security (Minister of the KGB), Minister of Interior, and Minister of Foreign Affairs were the Soviets Standing Politburo and most powerful men in the Soviet Union. If they wanted to get anything done, three of the five men would have to cooperate.

Shinhachi was a counter-intelligence officer by nature, he was trained to hunt and eliminate spies, traitors, double-agents, internal-corruption, and protect assets and contacts from foreign espionage. He was also familiar with being an analyst and field operations. He was good at gathering intelligence on spies and their assets. Thank god this kind of intel gathering wasn't his job, but his subordinates. He was just analyzing it.

'Was Menzhinsky in the KGB's or General-Secretary's camps?' he wondered. Someone had penetrated the Politburo. The asset couldn't give much intelligence on what they were doing, but he could talk about the personalities of the ministers and the factions the Politburo was divided into. It sounded like he was a trashy gossiper, but this kind of information was useful. It told them the General-Secretary Josef Ivanovich Penovaski and Minister of the KGB Nikolai Semyonovich Nevsky did not get along. He told them that the Minister of Defense was loyal to Penovaski so the military was backing the General-Secretary. Minister of Interior Vladimir Eduardovich Alekseyev was too smart to pick sides at this time and Minister Menzhinsky was too empty-headed to make his own decision. The future of the USSR would come down to a cautious politician who knew the Soviet game well and an empty-headed gasbag.

The KGB was meeting with the Serbians too and some German assets reported they were seeing if Yugoslavia could still be a buffer-zone.

Shinhachi wrote a note: "SFRY-USSR pact?"

He thought about that. Kosovo was also an issue. Nevsky seemed to agree that Kosovo was part of Serbia and this was another example of Westerners taking advantage of the Slavs. "Kosovo will be issue."

He went back to reading the rest of his report. "The Soviets appear to be renewing their relations with the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. It is not clear of their course. The Balkans has the appearance of stabilizing, but this is false. The tensions are now hiding under the surface. The Yugoslavians are conducting intensive military training and some upgrades of their armed forces, they are flexing their muscles. It is not clear if they intend to go to war with NATO. It is also not clear if the Soviets intend to use them for purposes of war. Currently the Soviets have no militaristic or economic benefit to going to war with NATO. Only Yugoslavia was a benefit by fighting NATO for Kosovo, or to their point of view at least. The Soviets from an international point of view could justify fighting for Kosovo because its independence does not follow normal UN guidelines. This is not to be seen a confirmation of imminent Communist aggression.

Yugoslavia is definitely no friend of the United States. They dislike us for taking Kosovo from them and intervening in the genocide of non-Serbs. The United Kingdom is also considered an enemy because of their interference in Serbia and Yugoslavian politics and their association with the US. Germany and Yugoslavia seem to share a mutual hate. The Yugoslavians refuse to let go of the Holocaust and move on. The Germans distrust allies of the USSR and were outraged by Serbia's war crimes. Germany also accepted many Slavic-Muslims who were escaping persecution in the Balkans and got first-hand accounts of the injustices.

NATO member states are probably not going to start overly friendly relations in the near future unless there is a sudden and radical change in the Yugoslavian leadership, which based of past examples is a strong possibly we cannot rule out.

For more information review files: 10-1K31-B931, 10-1K31-B932, 10-1K31-B932, and 10-1K31-B933.

Colonel Shinhachi, John S."

Things seemed so stable when the revolution was being fought in Russia compared to this. He leaned back in his swivel-chair and stared at the ceiling. NATO had shown it was powerful in the Korean War against China and North Korea. Yugoslavia was mediocre, but the Soviet Union had trained to fight NATO for as long as NATO had trained to fight them. Both sides' tactics, weapons, training, thinking, and organization was formed to counter the other. The Chinese had recovered their land forces from the war. Their navy was nowhere near ready for another war. They air corps was at its former strength, but proven it needed improvements and expansion.

He shut down his computer and locked his files. Jack lay across his desk and drifted off into sleep while thinking about the Soviet Union.

Emma awoke some hours later the next morning. It was Saturday. She leaned back and stretched. Her whole body was stiff. She looked over and saw Jack slumped across his desk. It was sometimes hard to tell if he was sleeping or dead. Jack was chronic-insomniac and needed medication to sleep… unless he worked himself to the point of sleep.

Emma draped his trench coat over him and headed to the bathroom. She opened the cabinet and pull out an orange prescription bottle. Pulling out a pair of blue rectangle-frame glasses and looked at the label. It was Concerta, a similar prescription drug to Ritalin for people with Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD) and Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). She put it back. She took Conerta, but it was Jack's and he was on a different dosage from her. Finding the correct one Emma took her the small capsule.

She went back into Jack's office and over to her desk. She liked working near him, even if he did kick her out when he made top secret phone calls. She soon learned that the Japanese-style doors and walls had been soundproofed so it was impossible to know what was happening.

There was a light tap at his office door to the hall. Emma opened it and was greeted by Jack's niece, Jennifer.

"Aunty Emma, is Uncle Jack awake?" she asked. Jennifer since Jack and Emma announced their engagement called her "Aunty".

"He's sleeping. I think he was working late."

The 6-year-old looked deep into Emma's eyes. "You must have been too. Your hair looks awful."

"Thanks," said Emma wryly. Jennifer tended to be too honest, but that was normal for a child her age. Emma's soon-to-be-niece skipped to the stairs and headed downstairs. Emma went into Jack's actually bedroom. He went back into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

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**0705 Hours; February 5****th****, 2012; Oval Office, White House; Washington DC, United States of America**

"Now Madam President, although we lost the Vermont Primary, your overwhelming victory in the Iowa Caucus seems to bode well," said Theodore Banks, campaign advisor for United States President Michelle Smith Crane.

President Crane nodded as she read a memo. Every four years the US Presidential Election was held. American presidents when elected serve a four-year term. The first President, George Washington, served only two terms in office before retiring. Afterwards, presidents follow the tradition of serving no more than two terms in office with the exception of President Franklin Roosevelt who was elect four times and served over 12 years in office until his death in 1945 during his fourth term. After Roosevelt's death, it was added into federal law that presidents can serve no more than two terms.

President Crane was nearing the end of her first term and up for reelection. It didn't seem possible that she would have to run a country and a reelection campaign at the same time. The Independent Party was small and there were only two other people running against her in the Independent primaries.

The whole process was complicated. From January and until June the parties would be running primaries and caucuses. They would go state by state until they covered all 50 states and the US territories like Guam and Puerto Rico. For each state won, based population, candidates would be awarded delegates. Democrats got delegates based the percentages of votes won. Republicans winner would get all the state delegates. Independents followed the same system, but that was because they were such a small party (4). The party didn't even exist in some states and territories. Some states had closed primaries in which people could only vote for candidates of the party they were registered. Many had open primaries in which people were free to choose. Texas could actually vote twice because they had both a primary and caucus, known as the Texas Two Step.

"Ted, what are my chances?" she asked putting down the memo.

"Your opponents aren't trying to undermine you, Madam President. They are just trying to make our party look more like the others." He noticed Crane pick up another memo. "Would you like to do this later?"

"No, finish up. I'm just trying to get a million things done before I go to Moscow."

"Yes, ma'am."

Western leaders were invited to Moscow for sporting event. The USA and USSR national hockey teams were going to play against each other. The first match was scheduled for the 8th in Moscow and the second in Washington on the 16th. Hockey was not the point of this match, it was to get Soviet and American leaders in the same room. The match was merely an excuse to justify this meeting and to keep public attention else where.

She was nervous. This would be the first face-to-face meeting with General-Secretary Penovaski. She had only met with the Russian's ambassador and ambassadors from the other Soviet states like the Ukraine, Poland, and Czechoslovakia.

* * *

**1505 Hours (UTC +3); February 5****th****, 2012; Kremlin, Moscow; Moscow Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic**

**United States Eastern Standard Time (UTC -5): 0705 Hours; February 5****th****, 2012**

The Kremlin was an ancient fortress/castle built in 1330s by Czar Ivan Kalita or Ivan I, the first Czar of Russia. It was surrounded by tall red brick walls and guard towers at regular intervals that were probably better recognized than the inter complex. The Kremlin was a name linked with government power like the White House in the US.

Here in the Kremlin three different governments had passed through. The Czars who had built the Kremlin, the French who briefly occupied the Kremlin when Napoleon invaded Russia in the 19th Century, and finely the Soviets (5).

The south side overlooked the Moscow River that flowed through the middle of the city. The northeast wall overlooked Krasnaya Ploshchad (Red Square). There were gates on each wall. A few uniformed guards from the Red Army stood there. There was also normally at least one KGB agent. They merely asked for papers or IDs. Sometimes the grounds were open to foreign tourists. The outer security was for this reason not great.

Inside were more checkpoints with much more heavily armed guards. Hidden out of sight were also some tanks and armor personal carriers. Additional AA-vehicles and SAM launchers were also hidden. In a very real sense, the Kremlin was still a fortress of old Russia with many modern weapons.

Tourists were allowed to visit some of the old historical buildings on the south side of the compound like Kremlin Palace where the Romanovs once ruled. The Council of Ministers building was one the northeast side next door to the Arsenal. Visitors were rarely allowed near the place where the Politburo convened. It was easily the most heavily protected building with its own special guard unit and numerous KGB agents and GRU agents.

The Political Bureau of the Communist Party of the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic, or the Soviet Politburo, convened in one room. It was a dark room with wooden walls and floors. Some of the younger candidates in the Politburo quietly joked that the ministers were as old as the tarnished gold fixtures. The room was a little shabby with age, but they strongly opposed any new conveniences being installed. Despite the Soviets hate for the Czars and imperialist Russia, they loved their old buildings. Party doctrine justified it by saying it was made by the Russian people so it was a symbol of the workers greatness.

"Comrade Ministers and Comrade General-Secretary, we are going to be the hosts of thousands of visitors to our great Rodina (Mortherland)," said Anatoly Sergeyevich Kalyayev, a candidate for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Candidates were part of the Politburo. They operated the departments of the ministries. They were not members of the Standing Politburo and could not vote.

Kalyayev was in charge of overseeing international sporting events that the USSR participated in like the Olympics. He was in charge of event coming up on the 8th of February.

"And security for the event?" asked Minister of Defense, a title also known as Marshal of the Soviet Union, Anatoly Pavelovich Nergetov. As a military man, his primary concern was security.

"We are coordinating with our comrades in the Second Directorate," said Kalyayev. The KGB's Second Directorate was a counter-intelligence division for political control and security of Soviet citizens and foreign visitors.

"What of security for the VIPs, Comrade Candidate?" asked Minister of Propaganda, Lev Andreiyevich Voroshilov. Voroshilov was a voting member of the Politburo. "It would look awfully bad for the Rodina if our guests die at the hands of Chechen terrorists or counter-revolutionaries."

"That may be better asked to Comrade Minister Nevsky," said Kalyayev. 13 of the 14 ministers and 8 candidates turned to face the head of the KGB.

"No harm will come to the Americans," he said simply with smile that made some men shiver. Senior members of the KGB scared lower politicians. The Politburo was untouchable from the outside, but Nevsky and his candidate were on the inside.

"And the Germans? What about the British, Dutch, French, and Japanese? What about the Kosovars?" asked General-Secretary Josef Ivanovich Penovaski tilting his head to the side. Penovaski had an odd way of moving. His movements seemed more like twitches and his eyes did twitch at odd moments. It was hard to say who scared people more, Penovaski or Nevsky. It was some comfort that the General-Secretary tried to be a little friendly, but not with the KGB.

"The Kosovars?" asked Minister of Agriculture, Taduesz Jaruzelski. Jaruzelski, as a Pole, was the first man on the Politburo that wasn't Russian in a long time. As far as anyone could remember, Stalin had been the last non-Russian. Some members of the Politburo objected to some man from Krakow, Poland, was in charge of feeding the Soviet Union. He was silencing some objection with the amount of work he was putting into preparing for the spring planting.

"Da, Comrade Minister Jaruzelski. They are the guests of the Albanians," said Kalyayev reviewing his notes.

"There is no rebuffing them?" asked Minister of Transportation Viktor Pavelrovich Krivitsky hopefully.

"Nyet (no), Viktor Pavelrovich. We cannot bar the Kosovars if they are some else's guests," said Penovaski giving Krivitsky a glare that made Russia this time of year feel quite warm by comparison. "Besides, they will only go as guests of someone more powerful. Do we say no to the German? Or maybe the British? Or the Americans?"

"What about the Japanese?" asked Minister of Foreign Affairs Menzhinsky.

"Vitkor Grigoryevich, isn't it your responsibility to know that as Minister of Foreign Affairs?" asked Minister of Interior Vladimir Eduardovich Alekseyev with a raised eyebrow. Menzhinsky was regarded as the Politburo's village idiot by the ministers.

A young lieutenant junior placed a bottle of vodka in front of Alekseyev. The meeting wasn't top secret and some aides and wards were coming in and out of the Chambers of Ministers bring food and drinks.

"Spa-see-ba (thank you)," said Alekseyev curtly without looking at the man as he withdrew to the corner. The man only titled his head a little in acknowledgement and gave no expression. Many of the guards and aides whipped their faces clear of expression in the presences of the ministers.

"What about emergency medical care?" asked Nergetov.

"It is being seen to," said Minister of Health Hatya Molotov Pelshe. She was the first woman in the Politburo. "I am putting special orders that doctors are to reframe from drinking in effect. Or be punished."

"That may be difficult my dear," said Krivitsky. Pelshe smiled politely, trying not to show her disgust for this sexist attitude she'd been getting from some of the ministers. The candidates didn't even use her correct title unless the General-Secretary was around.

"I am more than capable of handling it. Making it Party Policy means they risk going to the Gulags. I'm sure state doctors will be willing to sober up a little more if it means being at the mercy of the KGB," she said giving small hints at her contempt for Krivitsky.

"Of course, Comrade Minister," said Krivitsky with a smile. He said 'comrade minister' like it was a highly amusing joke to refer to her an equal.

"Well, Comrade Minister Pelshe seems to have things under control," said Alekseyev stoically. Pelshe nodded in thanks. Alekseyev was one of her few friends. He seemed totally indifferent to her gender as long as she worked. That was probably why he hated Menzhinsky.

"Very well my Comrades. We will break for now and reconvene after lunch," said Penovaski getting up and heading for the door. "Da svee-dah-nyah (good-bye)."

* * *

**0700 Hours; February 5****th****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

A tall, slightly intimidating looking man rolled out of bed and onto the floor. He rose and stumbled to the dresser. He was a cold morning and judging by the clouds snow was coming.

He pulled on some khakis and a white T-shirt. He opened his sock drawer and pulled out a pair of plain white socks. In the corner of the drawer was a leather holster and inside was a Colt M1911A1 .45 semi-automatic handgun.

Harima Kenji looked at the gun for a moment. He was trying to remember the last time he cleaned it. Not famous for his memory he figured he ask Mai or Yakumo. He looked at himself in the small mirror on the wall and was greeted by his intense black eyes. His hair was combed forward instead of keeping it slicked back like he did in high school. He was 20-years-old as of December 1, 2011 and would be 21 this December.

Kenji headed downstairs to the living room were three women of varying ages were watching a talk show. The youngest was in a brown long-sleeve blazer with red skirt and a sailor-style collar. The next oldest was untying her hair from a ponytail she normally tied it in when she cooked. The oldest, that looked didn't look or act as old as she was, was eating the omelet.

"Ohayō, Onii-chan," said Harima Mai. She still kept her black hair in the thick braided ponytail. She had green eyes with blue specs. Kenji had taken her back with him from Korea. Mai had no living family she knew of and was granted asylum by the Japanese government. She had also changed her family name from Li to Harima. Mai was 12-year-old and would be turning 13 this year.

"Ohayō, Kenji," said Tsukamoto Yakumo kissing her boyfriend on the head before taking a seat under the heated-table. She was 18-year-old and would be 19 this March. Her shiny black hair reached the small of her back, longer than she kept it back in high school. Her red eyes were shifting between her food and the TV screen.

"Ohayō," said Kenji to both. A small meow alerted him to Iroi, Yakumo's cat. The black cat had a cross shaped scar on his forehead. Kenji scratched the cat behind it's ears briefly.

Tenma waved cheerily and turned back to the TV. Tenma was literally a day older than Kenji, she was 20 and would turn 21 on November 30.

Kenji originally lived with his cousin, Osakabe Itoko, in her apartment. During the war Itoko had gone off with the special forces and left Mai with the Tsukamoto sisters. Since Mai had made herself at home and Kenji was now dating Yakumo, he was allowed to live in his room/studio.

"Yakumo, do you have classes today?" asked Kenji as he started on the rice.

"Hai (yes), morning and afternoon. Kinyobi (Friday) is pretty busy for me," she said in her quiet reserved voice. "Did you need something?"

"Iē (no), just wondering. I think Haruki's dragging me to some museum in Yokohama," he said. Yakumo head enrolled at a college in Sagamihara, a city east of Yagami. She was aiming for a business degree and to take some law courses. Although she hadn't said as much, she was hoping to learn how to protect herself and Kenji from corporate businessmen and women in the manga industry. Kenji was fairly well-known in the Kantō District by the editors. They also knew he wasn't business savvy in the least. Yakumo felt a small pang of rage at the idea someone would take advantage of the man she loved with all her heart.

Kenji was reading a copy of 'Suzumiya Haruhi no Yūutsu' (The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya). Kenji liked see what other authors wrote and had what amounted to a manga library in his room.

"Tanigawa Nagaru is genius," he muttered. He admired imaginative men and women like Tanigawa, author the Suzumiya Haruhi no Yūutsu. Kenji himself was in the middle of a series he started last year. Like most of his works it was based off his own life experiences about a delinquent who fell in love and went to a high school full of strange and unusually people. School life mangas were Kenji's specialty.

Breakfast was quiet and uneventful as ever. Tenma would shout loudly and chatter animatedly about what was on TV. Yakumo would gracefully eat and respond to Tenma's comments. Mai would read the newspaper that no one else bothered reading, but she liked keeping up with world events. Kenji would keep a scratchpad nearby to make notes or sketches if he got random inspirations.

Considering the war that had turned their worlds upside down, all four of them valued the peace.

With breakfast done, they cleared the table. Yakumo and Tenma grabbed their bags and headed for Yagami Central Station and head for school. Mai left for Yagami Elementary School where she was a 6th Year. Kenji started washing dishes. He liked being useful and the others usually had to leave early. He didn't have anywhere to go. Being an artist gave him a lot of liberty and he just needed 8 more pages to finish the next volume. Yakumo was looking over and inking in the last 5 pages. For once he was ahead of schedule.

He checked his watch and decided he should head over to the dojo where Hanai Haruki lived. He grabbed his coat and scarf and headed out the door. Kenji sat on his motorcycle and put on his helmet. He secured the scarf so it didn't go flying around and get snagged on something.

It was slow going at first because his street hadn't been plowed yet, but once he got the main road it was faster going. The motorcycle had been his father's, Harima Hiroki who died in a car accident due to bad weather. He checked the conditions. Kenji may act reckless, but he was actually a very careful driver. Surviving a war too also encouraged him to not get killed.

'Plowed after the last snow fall. Sand and salt is on the ground. Traffic is light so the road might be cold. It could have refrozen in places,' he thought. He settled on cruising at a 20km/h instead of the 30km/h speed limit.

He reached a traditional single-story Japanese-style building with a low sloping roof. He slid off his bike and approached the entrance. To his surprise there were at least 8 students who braved the snow. They must have been college students since elementary and secondary school students were in class by now. A few recognized Kenji and bowed. He was a regular visitor and some knew he was a war veteran.

"Any of you seen Haruki?" he asked.

"Hanai-sempai is over in his quarters," said one of the students.

"Arigato," he said walking out of the building's back door and heading for the private grounds where the Hanai family lived.

He knocked on the door.

A man in his early 50s opened the door. "Ah, Kenji-kun, what brings you here today?"

"Felt like seeing what Haruki was up to, Hanai-sama," said Kenji to Hanai Shinji, Hanai Haruki's father.

Shinji grinned in a knowing way. "Oh, I know what you mean. He's in his room. I'm sure you two have a lot of work to do."

"Uh, sure," said Kenji as he kicked off his shoes in the entrance hall. It was hard to tell with his sunglasses, but his eyebrows were raised and was a little unnerved.

He headed upstairs and knocked on Haruki's door.

A man of equal height and muscle tone was in front of him. He had neatly kept hair and trick square-framed glasses.

"Yo, Haruki. You said 8:30 right?" asked Kenji checking his watch. It was 8:17, but it was over an hour to Yokohama and they might as well as go now.

"Kenji, just the man I wanted to see!" said Haruki so enthusiastically that Kenji nearly fell over.

"I didn't know you wanted to see that damn museum so badly," said Kenji trying to remember what museum it was again.

"Huh? Oh, that. We're not going," he said with a wide grin. "We have a lot of work ahead of us if you so wish to accept the challenge."

Kenji's ears perked up at the word 'challenge'. He couldn't resist people challenging him even if he had no idea what it was. He puffed himself up and declared, "Bring it on old buddy. I can handle it."

"Great. I asked Mikoto to marry me last night and you're going to be my best man. We have a wedding to plan," said Haruki clapping Kenji on the back.

Kenji stared blankly. 'What did he say?'

"I was thinking we can ask Yūki-san about her wedding," said Haruki. Yūki Tsumugi was a former classmate of theirs. She was now Natsuyami Tsumugi and lived in Kyoto with her husband's family. "Of course, we'll need to pick a day when we both a few days off. Maybe next weekend?"

Kenji was just piecing together what was happening and what he was just roped into. It occurred to him that Haruki took advantage of Kenji's willingness to jump on any challenge. While was happy for his best friend, former enemy/rival, he couldn't help, but say one thing.

"I'm a former fucking delinquent, manga-ka, and soldier! What the hell do you think I know about wedding?!" he demanded.

Haruki's smile faltered a little. Then it came back. "We can do it. This can't be harder than fighting an entire regiment of Chinese. Think of it as a challenge."

He sighed. Life did seem to take sudden turns and ask Kenji to do things he never thought he'd do.

* * *

So ends the first chapter of the sequel. I hope you are starting to get an idea of what this story is going to be like. I'm not going to jump to war immediately. The world is at peace right now and I'm slowly going to work towards war. The history of the Balkans is pretty complex… and violent. The early history is a little confusing to me, but I think I covered the basics. People have written books on just one group over the course of a century let alone roughly 1,400 years of history. As usual with me, I try to have some informative parts, some drama, some action or suspense, and comedy. I love action and information, but I also enjoy a good laugh. That's one reason I've pick School Rumble, I thought I could make them serious, but still keep the comedy.

Join me next time as Kenji finds himself being called to service for a completely different task. I'll be reintroducing other School Rumble, Bleach, and other anime characters from the last story in the next few chapters. I'll also be bringing back the characters I created too and new ones are to come as well.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. The Serbs: History, Myth, and Destruction of Yugoslavia is a real book written by a man named Tim Judah. It is a very good book that that talked about the history of the Serbs and Croats from Roman times to the Kosovo War.

2. I'm a volunteer at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum and I know exactly what I'm talking about when it comes to the Holocaust. 11,000,000 were murdered over the course of four years from 1941-1945. Yugoslavia, Poland, and Germany were the countries hardest hit by the Holocaust. Yugoslavia was home to many groups the Nazis targeted. Poland before the war had the largest Jewish population in Europe, between the Nazis and later the Soviets its Jewish population is either dead or relocated to Israel and the US. Germany lives with the shame of the Nazis crimes and has built the largest memorials to those who died at the hands of the SS.

3. This is a fictional war from the previous story. NATO was not formed until 1949 and never engaged in open war with the Soviet Union in Germany. Yugoslavia therefore had no involvement.

4. The Independent Party is a political party I made up. I think there is a small political called the Independents, but I don't think they have anyone in the federal government like Congress. For some of you European readers, your used to having several political parties, in America we only have two.

5. In real life, a fourth group can be added. The President of the Russian Federation, Dmitry Anatolyevich Medvedev, rules from the Kremlin. The Duma might also be in the Kremlin.


	2. Chapter 2: Let the Games Begin

Well, I've been having a number of problems with my computer and internet lately.

If ya'll have been keep up with the news than you know the Russian Federation is currently invading Georgia (the country, not the state). I had a nice picture on the front page of the Washington Post (my local paper) of a Georgian recovery/engineering vehicle being abandoned. I don't know about Canada or Europe, but from the US it looks bad. I'm not sure if we know why Russia is attacking… or if anyone knows, I first heard it over the weekend listening to the BBC World Service in my car.

And here's the second chapter folks. I'm kinda' making this up as I go long with only a rough idea of the details.

Only one chapter up and I get two reviews, eh? I was on chapter ten on my last story by the time someone left a review so thanks you asdf. You have been a loyal reader. And thank you to Knukkie. Glad you're having a good day because my have been pretty stressful. This has been a bit of a stress reliever for me and a creative outlet… and a way to improve my writing skills which have been my weakest area.

DarkBeastBoy, nice hearing from you again. Thanks for putting the sequel on you favorites.

Perrou, thanks for listing this story as your favorite too.

Lately between my commute from my home to the Holocaust Museum, where I've been volunteering for the summer, I've been brainstorming… and reading Cardinal in the Kremlin by Tom Clancy.

Can't believe I leave for college in a few weeks. This story might suffer a little while I start going to Target and Staples and finding the stuff my sister used when she was in college. That's the nice thing about having a big sister, she already has a number of things I need.

I don't own any trademarked or copywrite item. Please review and/or tell a friend.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Let the Games Begin**

"The truth will set you free."

Unofficial motto of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)

**0600 Hours; February 7****th****, 2012; Perryville, Cecil County; State of Maryland, United States of America**

Klara Soo-yong walked out of her house. It wasn't even light yet and she stumbled a little on her to her car. She was 31 and lived with her parents, but see wouldn't see them until close to 6:00 pm. In a small town like Perryville, families stayed close and it wasn't too unusual to live with your parents, especially when you wanted to make sure they were taking care of themselves. It wasn't like she was some college dropout living in her parent's basement. She graduated from MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology) and had a room in the third floor loft.

Perryville was a small town of less then 4,000 people just north of the Susquehanna River. Cecil County was on the north tip of the Chesapeake Bay were the Susquehanna and Elk Rivers met. Ships traveled up the Elk River to the Delaware Bay via the Delaware Canal that linked the Bay and the Elk River. Many of the people who passed through the town were either truck drivers stopping at the tollbooth on Interstate-95 that had a tollbooth outside of town. Others were people coming up the Pulaski Highway that cut through the county.

Perryville was the second largest town in the county after Elkton which was 19 miles north of them near the Delaware border. Perryville was also the only town in the county with a train station since the Pennsylvania Railroad went out of business in the 1970s.

She drove her car down to Port Deposit which was probably the smallest town in the county. It was on the north bank of the Susquehanna. The town was only one street wide, three streets at its widest. The reason was because the town was built between the river bank, a set of railroad tracks owned by CSX, and a cliff face over 100ft tall. If she continued up the road she'd reach the dam the controlled the flow of the Susquehanna. The people of Port Deposit were grateful for the dam because in the past the city had flooded repeatedly. There was even a picture of looked like a glacier forming in the middle of the town and taking out a few buildings.

A man round her age waited for her in front of a two-story house.

"Thanks Klara," said Robert Levine.

"When does your car get out of the garage?" she asked turning around and heading back to Perryville.

"A week," he said sighing. "God damn those kids. I hope they get more than community service."

Soo-yong shook her head. Cecil County was a small close net place. Elkton had a little over 11,000 people. Port Deposit wasn't even 700.

The Maryland Rail Commuter Service, known by its abbreviation MARC Train, serviced Perryville. The Penn Line was one of three train lines operated by MARC. It was there longest and busiest line. It operated more trains, moved more people, and made more money than the other two lines combined.

The station was owned by Amtrak, but Amtrak only had one regional train, the Regional #151, stop at Perryville. They accepted MARC ticket holders like Soo-yong and Levine.

They sat down on a bench in the cold morning air and waited for the next train. Perryville was as far north as MARC operated. A high speed Amtrak train raced by north bound for Willington, Delaware. This line was original built by the Pennsylvania Railroad for their trains running between New York and Washington DC. It was the business line on the East Coast.

A train finally arrived and came to a halt at Platform #1, which was the only platform. Levine and Soo-yong flashed their monthly passes to the conductor who scanned it and let them on. The train left the station and picked up speed as it crossed the massive steel bridge over the Susquehanna River and passed through Havre de Grace, a town roughly the same size as Perryville on the south bank and part of a different county. They slowed and stopped at the Aberdeen Station which was also owned by Amtrak, but got more Amtrak service. Aberdeen was home to the Aberdeen Proving Grounds, owned by the US Army. They made stops at Edgewood, Martin State Airport, Baltimore, West Baltimore, Halethorpe, Baltimore-Washington International Airport, Odenton, Bowie, and Seabrooke.

"New Carrollton, next stop is New Carrollton," announced a prerecorded voice over the PA system.

Levine and Soo-yong got off here. The train continued to its final stop at Washington DC Union Station where the other two MARC line converge and also met with Virginia Railway Express, a Northern Virginia commuter rail service. At New Carrollton they could board the Washington Metrorail's Orange Line.

Using their Metro Smartcards to avoid the hassle of buying tickets, they walked over to the silver and brown 8-car train that sat on the platform. An electronic screen said it would depart in 4 minutes. Some commuters were waiting for the train to depart reading newspapers or novels. After a few minutes they saw a man in a blue Metro uniform had for the front car. The door closing warning beep went off and a prerecorded voice said, "Doors closing."

"Good morning customers and welcome aboard, this is Orange Line to Vienna (1), next stop is Landover," said the man in a standard Metro greeting.

It was a normal day for them as they rode through Maryland, over the Anacostia River, and into Washington DC. After a while they were deep into Washington at L'Enfant Plaza, the busiest station on the Metro. Here the Blue and Orange Lines crossed paths with the Green and Yellow Lines. They got off and took an escalator upstairs to the Green and Yellow Line platforms (2).

A Green Line train was pulling out and a Yellow was coming in behind it. It was 8:00 in the morning and the station was packed with government workers and other commuters.

"Yellow Line train to Huntington," announced the PA speaker on the train as it stopped.

As it left the station the driver said in a bored monotone, "Next stop is Pentagon, first station in the Commonwealth of Virginia."

They exited the tunnel and into the open air on a bridge that spanned the frozen Potomac River. They caught a glimpse of the people stuck on the 14th Street and I-395 bridges in bumper-to-bumper traffic. It gave the Metro commuters a feeling of superiority to see they were on the move and their counter-parts in cars were honking away at the cars in front of them uselessly.

They were plunged back into darkness as the train went back underground.

"Pentagon Station, first stop in the Commonwealth of Virginia and transfer point to the Blue Line. Doors opening on your left (3)," announced the driver over the PA.

Soo-yong and Levine exited the train and headed up an escalator. They pulled out their security badges and exited the station. Pentagon Station was open to the public, but the entrance to the Pentagon required ID.

The immediate entrance and a lot of the halls weren't heavily protected. It actually looked like a food count from a shopping mall. There was even a MacDonald's.

Levine and Soo-yong's IDs didn't have names on it, but that wasn't unusual for people who worked in the Intelligence Community. It only had their pictures, a serial number, and the insignia of the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA).

They approached a door and tapped their badges against a scanner. Next they had to enter security number all before putting a key into the lock and opening the door.

"Morning Klara, Bobby," said Henry Martin, a co-worker of theirs. Martin lived in Fredericksburg, Virginia. He took the Virginia Railway Express to Crystal City where a government van picked up other commuters like him riding the VRE. Most people at the Pentagon or any government office didn't live in the District (4).

"Mornin' Harry," they said as they raced to the coffee maker. "Anything new?"

"Another message from Blue Star," said Martin holding up a file marked 'classified'. Blue Star was an unknown informant in the Kremlin. He, or she for all they knew, was giving them basic information on the Politburo. He never gave much information on the Politburo's rulings or secret meetings, but he did tell them about the people in it and how they interacted with each other or their relations. Because they didn't know who this guy was or why he was helping the US, all of his letters were run through the counter-intelligence community. A CIFA officer only known to them as Piney Creek was screening the letters and even profiled the man.

The informant was called Blue Star because that was the name signed to each letter.

"Dear Comrade," said Martin. Blue Star seemed to speak or at least write in English. "How are you today? Weather in the Motherland is quite cold, but I'm sure it is for you too. The Party is quite interested in up coming game. Priorities are safety for Western leaders. A Minister objected to your Comrades in Kosovo attending. Kosovo will not be able to attend if they aren't guests of someone other.

Do you, my Comrades, have female co-workers?"

They turned to look at Soo-yong and then looked back to the letter.

"Does she get treated like an equal or do you consider her appointment a joke and you are merely… what is word… humoring? Da, humoring her? I think Minister of Health feels that way. Minister of Transport think it funny joke. She hate him very much. Minister of Interior seem to be her friend though. He regards her as equal. So does Minister of Defense.

Minister of Foreign Affairs seems to be showing his stupidity more and more. Most ministers this bad are replaced by gooder candidates."

"Gooder isn't a word," said Levine.

"It's what he wrote," said Martin. He went back to reading. "I seen two ministers not as bad get replaced. Someone must have plans for him. The Politburo not keep stupid men unless they have good reason.

Until next time Comrades.

Your Friend,

Blue Star."

"More detailed than usual," said Soo-yong as she poured a second cup of coffee. "The CIFA thinks he's a guard or something. Why did he get this much info?"

"If the meeting was about that hockey game, then it wouldn't exactly be top secret, right?" said Levine.

"You never know with the Reds," said Soo-yong. "Nice to know Ivan doesn't want anything bad to happen."

"Blue Star says the Premier wants to make friends with the West so he has to make sure nothing bad happens. Someone like the Chechens might attack the game to embarrass the Russians," said Martin.

"Sounds a little extreme," said Levine sitting at his desk and booting up his computer. "Did you pass that on to the Director yet?"

"About 30 minutes ago," said Martin putting the letter in a file drawer.

"Is anything set?" asked Levine.

"For the President, most of that ain't our department," said Martin.

"She'll probably be bound for Andrews by now," said Soo-yong checking her watch. When ever the President or a major member of the federal government left the country the entire US Intelligence Community knew about it. The Air Force Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance Agency (AF ISR) would have the course plotted out. The Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) and Department of Homeland Security would make sure the President wouldn't be harmed while she was still in the US. The Office of Navy Intelligence (ONI) would make sure that the course over the Atlantic Ocean would be safe and a US or NATO ship would be somewhere nearby at any time. Army Military Intelligence (MI) would coordinate with the Europeans while the President passed over Europe. The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and DIA and the State Department's Bureau of Intelligence and Research (INR) would make sure the route to the US Embassy was secure before she even set foot in Moscow.

The Secret Service would protect her at given moment. The Counter-Intelligence Field Activity would be screening every known foreign agent or potential risk within the US Intelligence Community.

The National Security Agency (NSA) would be coordinating all the Department of Defense's intelligence services, which included the DIA that Levine, Soo-yong, and Martin worked for.

"She'll have boarded Marine One by now and be in transit," said Soo-yong. Marine One was the callsign for an Agusta-Westland VH-71 Kestrel. The Kestrels were new helicopters that replaced the Sikorsky VH-3D Sea King and VH-60N White Hawk (5) in 2010. Marine One would fly to Andrews Air Force Base located outside of Washington. President Crane and her staff, who would be transported separately for security reasons, would meet at Andrews. They would then be put on Air Force One, the callsign for a specially modified Boeing VC-747 that was the President's personal plane.

"So she'll refuel where?" asked Levine.

"Air Force won't share that information, but my guess would be near Rammstien," said Martin. Rammstien Air Force Base was a massive US owned base in Germany. It was probably the largest and most important facility to the US military in Europe.

"Okay, you two, we have other things to do," said Soo-yong. "Bob, call CIFA. We lost contact with an asset in Prague."

"What? But that's the third contact we lost in Czechoslovakia," said Levine.

"Yeah. That's why you should call the CIs. We can't have lost that many contacts in a month without a leak."

"On it."

"Harry, the Brits got some shots of known ex-IRA gunner runners meeting with Al-Qaeda members. They have someone at their Embassy, can you get someone on it while that lead is still fresh?"

"Sure, I'll call the CT (counter-terrorism) wing," said Martin picking up his phone. Soo-yong opened her mouth to add something, but Martin already knew what it was. "I'll make sure we get copies too."

"Okay," said she putting some files into a briefcase. "I'm meeting that CIA guy in 10. You need anything?"

"Make sure he gives you the Polaris File," said Martin and Levine together.

* * *

**1130 Hours; February 7****th****, 2012; Yagami Elementary School, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

"And that concludes today's lesson, for homework you are to complete problems 1-19 on page 324," said Tanakina Koze, Class 6-E's teacher. Unlike secondary schools, elementary school classes had one teacher who taught them everything. This made them very demanding jobs, but they only had to cover basics.

Mai tucked away her pre-algebra textbook into her schoolbag and then pull out her bento. She unwrapped the purple cloth that secured the metal container and also provided some insulation.

"Yo, Harima-san," said a voice next to her. Mai looked up to see Ichijou Kousuke (6), one of her classmates, take a seat at the desk next to her. Kousuke was one of Mai's few male friends. That seemed odd considering Mai's liking for military things and other interests that were normally of interest to boys. Mai didn't come across as a tomboy, she was quiet and in a way graceful in a way that was considered feminine. Traits not considered to be characteristics of a tomboy.

"Konnichiwa (good afternoon), Ichijou-kun," said Mai as she open her bento. Curry again? Oh well, she did like curry, but nearly as much as Kenji or Tenma's boyfriend, Karasuma Ooji.

"Pretty tough lessons, ne?" he asked while trying not to stare at her.

"Not really," said Mai. Math was pretty easy for her. So were languages, history, social studies, and physical education. Art and music were her weak areas. Mai couldn't help but be a little disappointed in herself when her adopted older brother and adopted-deceased-father were manga-kas.

"Eh? Damn you too smart, Harima-san," he said glaring at her. Mai only shrugged. Kousuke leaned back in his chair. Both of them and some of their other classmates were going through changes. Kousuke's voice was cracking at odd and embarrassing moments. Hair was appearing in some places he didn't know it would grow.

Mai too was changing. She'd just started having her periods two months ago. She remembered Kenji freezing and nearly passing out when she asked about the changes. Tenma had tried to be helpful, but her explanations didn't make sense because she used too many weird and confusing metaphors that Mai now realized didn't make sense. Yakumo was the one who'd told her about the changes that puberty was starting to bring… or at least as much as she could before her voiced died from embarrassment.

Kousuke looked at his classmate. She was very pretty. Mai didn't consider herself attractive, much less think about her appearance that often, but Kousuke did. He tried to get her attention, but Mai didn't seem to notice. Having a big sister, Kousuke knew better than to get her attention by harassing Mai or being mean to her.

"I just don't get it. How do know what the X is equal to?" he asked rhetorically.

"Easy. If the first problem you subtract 5 and then add it to 11. So X is equal to 16."

"You can do that?" he asked staring at the variable on his homework.

"That's the whole idea, Ichijou-kun," said Mai rolling her green eyes. She finished eating and pulled out a book. Kousuke looked over at the title and found he couldn't read it.

"What language is that in?" he asked pointing to the cover.

"Hanguk-eo," she said.

"Nani?"

"Korean. The characters are called Hangul. It's unique to Korea," she said pointing to circular characters that were extremely different from Kanji, Katakana, and Hiragana, the three Japanese writing scripts. Kousuke kept forgetting Mai was not Japanese, but was born in the Republic of (South) Korea.

"So where are you from exactly?" trying to make conversation.

"Pusan. It's a big port city on the southern coast."

"So… what was your life like over there?" he asked. Kousuke didn't know any other foreigners and was wondering what it was like.

"Not too different from Japan. Just the culture and language. Schools were completive like here. Rural areas were a little slow, but that's true here too. Online video gaming was so huge they had their own TV channels (7). I went to school, had friends…" her voice trailed off.

"Uh, you still have friends," said Kousuke quickly.

"Yi, Seo, Choi, Sung-hi…"

"Shinhachi-san, Tennouji-san," added Kousuke reminding Mai of her Japanese friends. "Besides, they have to be somewhere, ne? They can't just disappear completely."

Mai looked at him and titled her head to the side. Kousuke wondered if she was doing this to torture him or if she really didn't know how cute she looked when she did that. She seemed to be considering him. After a few seconds of Kousuke struggling not to blush, Mai smiled… which made it even for Kousuke not to blush.

"You're a good friend, Ichijou-kun," she said sweetly.

"Iē, zenzen (no, it was nothing)," he said looking away from her. Lunch ended soon after and they went back to class.

Four 45-minute periods later school let out. Mai was on cleaning duty today and started cleaning the windows while other classmates cleaned the desks, chalkboard, or swept the floor. Japanese students did a lot of the cleaning and some of the grounds keeping to teach them responsibility and hard work. It also discouraged vandalism and littering when they were the ones who often have to clean it up. An actually janitor would clean the halls and bathrooms and do most of the grounds keeping.

Mai headed down to the lockers in the front entrance. She got out her street shoes. She made sure her wool coat and scarf that were part of winter uniform to add to the long-sleeve blazer.

It was snowing again. She walked outside and headed home like any normal 12-year-old. Japan was a relatively safe country. Children could walk down the streets unattended. Most police officers didn't carry guns. Police officers in Japan spent most of their time helping lost tourists or writing tickets. The highlights of their days were usually chasing shoplifters.

She was passing some stores. If she knew her big brother as well as she did than he was probably in the area. These stores sold manga and manga products. There was also a store that specialized in selling products for manga-kas like Kenji. Sure enough, he was inside one of the manga stores reading a… a shoujo manga?

She entered the store and walked up to him. "Onii-chan, what are you reading?"

"Huh? Oh, Mai-chan. Just researching," he said. He was looking over a wedding scene.

"For Nii-chan's wedding?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," he said nodding.

"Don't you think there are actually books for this?"

He turned to stare at her. Even with his sunglasses on she could tell he had that wide-eye expression of dawning comprehension.

A few minutes later they were heading home. Kenji had decided to walk, so his bike was at home.

Mai sighed. Boys could be well meaning like her brother, but they could also be extremely stupid. At least some of them tried to be nice.

* * *

**1748 Hours; February 8****th****, 2012; Khodynka Arena, Moscow; Moscow Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic**

Ledovy dvorets sporta na Khodynskom polye, or Ice Sport Palace on the Khodynka, was a huge multi-purpose indoor center that was opened on December 15, 2006. While it could be used for a number of purposes, it was primarily used for ice related events like ice hockey. The arena could seat 14,500 people.

A few employees were finishing up cleaning and smoothing out the rink. A few referee from International Ice Hockey Federation (IIHF) HQ in Zürich, Switzerland were already on the ice and making sure everything was ready.

On one side was the rink were about 20 men in blue uniforms with red stripes and white helmets. On their jerseys in red, white, and blue were the letters "USA" for United States of America. Opposite them were men in red uniforms with some yellow. On their white helmets was a red star. On the jersey in yellow was "CCCP" for Союз Советских Социалистических Республик (Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik).

Above the stands in the VIP (Very Important Person) boxes were world leaders. United States President Michelle Crane was seated in the largest and most lavish box. Beside her was her husband, Christopher John Crane. Also with them were her 16-year-old daughter, Ellen Mary Crane, and her 12-year-old son, Jeffery Elliot Crane. Also with President Crane was Vice-President Harold Craig Graham, Secretary of State Nicolas Spinoza, Senior Advisor to the President Amy Helen Robertson, Secretary of Defense Edward Jan Ruysdael, and their respective families.

Sharing the box was General-Secretary Josef Ivanovich Penovaski, Minister of the KGB Nikolai Semyonovich Nevsky, Marshal of the Soviet Union (Minister of Defense) Anatoly Pavelovich Nergetov, Minister of Interior Vladimir Eduardovich Alekseyev, head of the GRU Colonel-General Andrei Vasilyevich Grishin, and the rest of the Politburo.

All the Americans were dressed in black, grey, or dark-blue suits. Nergetov as head of the Soviet Red Armed Forces wore a military uniform. So did Grishin who was in charge of military intelligence and special operations. Nevsky too had a uniform, but the KGB uniform was a green to the military's khaki-greenish color uniform. Some General-Secretaries had worn military style uniforms, but Penovaski wore a black suit knowing it would look better to the Western leaders.

In neighboring boxes where heads of state and high officials from Germany, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, Belgium, Denmark, Italy, Spain, Canada, Portugal, France, Austria, Greece, Turkey, Japan, and Albania. The Kosovar leaders were sitting with the Albanians. Also there were leaders from the USSR: Russia, Poland, Ukraine, Romania, Czechoslovakia, Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Belarus, Hungary, Armenia, Bulgaria, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan.

The stands were filled with people from the across the Soviet Union, Western Europe, North America, and Eastern Asia, namely Japan.

"Comrades of the Glorious Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic, please rise for the singing of the United States and Soviet national anthems," announced a man over the loudspeakers in a booming voice in Russian. The non-Russian speaking spectators had earphones on with a translator speaking into it.

As the guests, the US National Anthem, the Star-Spangled Banner.

The opening notes were played by a brass-band and the American crowd bellowed out:

"Oh! Say can you see

By the dawn's early light

What so proudly we hailed

At the twilight's last gleaming.

Whose broad stripes and bright stars

Through the perilous fight

O'er the ramparts we watched

Were so gallantly streaming.

And the rockets red glare

The bombs bursting in midair

Gave us proof through the night that was flag was still there

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!"

Next, the Soviets bellowed out in Russian the Hymn of the Soviet Union:

"Soyuz nerushimy respublik svobodnykh (Unbreakable union of freeborn republics)  
Splotila naveki velikaya Rus' (Great Russia has welded forever to stand)!  
Da zdravstvuyet sozdanny voley narodov (Created in struggle by will of the people)!  
Yediny, moguchy Sovetsky Soyuz (United and might, our Soviet land)!

(Chorus)

Slavsya, Otechestvo nashe svobodnoye (Sing to the Motherland, home of the free)

Druzhby narodov nadyozhny oplot (Bulwark of peoples, in brotherhood strong)!

Partiya Lenina - sila narodnaya (Oh! Party of Lenin! The strength of people).

Nas k torzhestvu kommunizma vedyot (To Communism's triumph lead us on)!

Skvoz' grozy siyalo nam solntse svobody (Through tempests the sunrays of freedom have cheered us)  
I Lenin veliky nam put' ozaril (Along the new path where great Lenin did lead)!  
Na pravoye delo on podnyal narody (To a righteous cause he raised up the people)  
Na trud i na podvigi nas vdokhnovil (Inspired them to labor and valorous deed)!

(Chorus)

Slavsya, Otechestvo nashe svobodnoye (Sing to the Motherland, home of the free)

Druzhby narodov nadyozhny oplot (Bulwark of peoples, in brotherhood strong)!

Partiya Lenina - sila narodnaya (Oh! Party of Lenin! The strength of people).

Nas k torzhestvu kommunizma vedyot (To Communism's triumph lead us on)!

V pobede bessmertnykh idey kommunizma (In the victory of Communism's deathless ideal)  
My vidim gryadushcheye nashey strany (We see the future of our dear land)  
I krasnomu znameni slavnoy otchizny (And to her fluttering scarlet banner)  
My budem vsegda bezzavetno verny (selflessly true, we always shall stand)!

(Chorus)

Slavsya, Otechestvo nashe svobodnoye (Sing to the Motherland, home of the free)

Druzhby narodov nadyozhny oplot (Bulwark of peoples, in brotherhood strong)!

Partiya Lenina - sila narodnaya (Oh! Party of Lenin! The strength of people).

Nas k torzhestvu kommunizma vedyot (To Communism's triumph lead us on)!

The Soviet anthem was a little bit longer. The American anthem was actually three verses longer, but they longer sang the first verse.

Six players on each team went out onto the ice. One goalie, three forwards, and two backs. A ref in a black and white striped uniform sailed out onto the ice. He held up a black puck above his head with a whistle between his lips. He looked between the American and Russian forward-centers and then the wingmen. He dropped the puck and quickly got out of the way as he blew a quick blast on his whistle.

Hockey was a rough sport. American players were usually professional players from college or national teams. The Russians were actually Red Army soldiers.

Prime Minister of the Federation of Japan, Aokami Shin, wondered if the padding the players wore was sufficient for the impact of their collision. Japan too had a team in the IIHF, but he didn't follow the came closely. Baseball and football (soccer) were to major sports in Japan. Prime Minister Aokami was surrounded by security in black suits. His Minister of Defense, Minister of Foreign Affair, Chief Cabinet Secretary, and their family members.

Prime Minister Aokami was companied by his wife, Aokami Kyoko. His son and daughter had decided to stay in Japan.

"Is that legal?" asked Kyoko seeing one of the Russian players knock out the feet of one of the American players.

"I guess so. The official doesn't seem to be doing anything so it must be," said the Prime Minister.

"Goal!" shouted the announcer to a roar of applause from the Soviets. "The match is now 1-0, Mother Russia!"

The Russians once again to custody of the puck and barreled down on the American goalie. One of the defensemen who plowed into the Russian with the puck and sent it to the left wingman. The Russian center and right wingman charged for the American who passed it to the American center just in time to be crushed between the Russians. The American center charged forward skirting the left defenseman, but got blocked by the right defenseman. He passed it to the right wingman who managed to get passed the goalie and shoot.

"Goal. 1-1, not tied," said the announcer much less enthusiastically than before. The Americans spectators cheered.

"A rough sport, da (yes)?" asked General-Secretary Penovaski to President Crane in English.

"Yes. It is a common joke in my country that hockey players are often missing teeth," said President Crane conversationally. She noticed the Minister of the KGB observing her and knew she was being sized up. The CIA and NSA had warned to be wary of Nevsky and do not appear weak in front of him. She wondered if she should have brought the director of the CIA with her for show. Then again, she doubted that would intimidate Minister Nevsky.

"I don't much like him either," said Penovaski quietly so only Crane could hear. That had taking her by surprise.

'So the intelligence was right, they do hate each other… or Premier Penovaski hates him and Nevsky doesn't give a shit,' wondered President Crane.

He doesn't smile noted President Crane. Why? She had been briefed about what he was like complete with a few photos. The man was just as scary as the KGB. He kept his face stoic because any other expression tended to frighten people. She couldn't help but notice his odd twitching-like movements. What had happened to Penovaski to make him like this?

Penovaski also was taking notes. She was small and petite, not considered active by Russian standards, but Americans were different that way. She was older than him and had a family of her own. She was running a country and an election campaign while raising a son and daughter? She didn't seem like much from a distance, but up close she was radiating a presence. She thought of her people, something he respected. She worked very well with other heads-of-state, something he was still learning. He could see she disliked Nevsky.

Menzhinsky was cheering loudly, much to the embarrassment of his fellow ministers. Some of the Americans found his an entertaining sight. Penovaski wanted so badly to get rid of Menzhinsky and replace him with his candidate, but he couldn't generate enough support in the Politburo to vote him off. He couldn't use the GRU to eliminate him and the KGB wasn't going to help. He wondered what Nevsky wanted with Menzhinsky. If the KGB wanted to influence Soviet foreign policy, it couldn't be good.

* * *

**2000 Hours; February 8****th****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Like most nights at this time, the Tsukamotos and Harimas were seated in front of the TV with some tea and a snack as they watched Three Who Got Slashed, an Edo Era samurai drama.

Kenji was reading a book called 'Wedding Planning for Dummies' that he and Mai bought at a local book store.

"I don't get this," he said. He understood that under Japanese Federal Law, a couple must go to his or her local government office and fill out a form. This had to be done or the marriage wouldn't be recognized by the government and any tax benefits, or other legal benefits with marriage, would be denied until the form was submitted.

Knowing Haruki, he guessed he would prefer a traditional wedding. He was also assured Mikoto shared this sentiment by Mikoto and her parents.

"Don't these people know who they're dealing with?" he asked himself out loud. He was not a wedding planner.

"Kenji, daijōbu (are you alright)?" asked Yakumo.

"Hai," said Kenji dully.

"Kenji-kun, don't they have people who can plan wedding for you?" asked Tenma with her mouth half full with a cookie. Kenji stared at her for a second and then ran to get the phonebook.

* * *

**2011 Hours; February 8****th****, 2012; Khodynka Arena, Moscow; Moscow Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic**

"It is now 2-1, Mother Russia," said the announcer. Both teams were pretty up an aggressive defense.

The Russians had the puck and were charging in on the American goalie. There was only two minutes left.

In a desperate move, the American center tripped up the Russian and passed it on to the left wingman. They then moved into a criss-crossing pattern to confuse the Russian defensemen who were gliding backwards waiting for an opening. It seemed surprising such big Red Army soldiers could move so gracefully. They weren't paying attention to the right wingman who was circling from behind the goal.

"20 seconds on the clock and the Americans are in possession of the puck. They are advancing on the goal, but have no opening."

The Russian goalie foolish moved away from the goal leaving a gap. The American center grinned widely and shot it to the left wingman who sent the puck around the defensemen. The right wingman swooped in from behind the goal and sent the puck into the exposed goal.

"Goal, America. 2-2, tie," said the announcer making to attempt to hide his disappointment.

The American translator was screaming for joy so loudly that many of the American and English-speaking spectators had to turn down the volume their headphones. A buzzer blared and a ref blew his whistle signaling the end of the game.

"It was a good game, Comrade Premier," said President Crane in English. She spoke no Russian.

"Da, both sides played well," agreed General-Secretary Penovaski. He didn't correct the American calling him 'Premier' that most Westerners said instead of 'General-Secretary'.

"If only we can settle our differences with this. Even this level of violence is a step up armed conflict," said President Crane. She wondered who would clean the blood off the ice from when a player had collided into the safety glass.

"Da. I hope you have enjoyed your brief visit to the Motherland, Comrade President," Penovaski shaking hands with his American counter-part.

"I just hope you'll enjoy your visit to the United States," said President Crane. To be honest, she wasn't sure if the Soviet leaders as high as the Politburo had visited the US. Well, Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev had visited President Ronald Wilson Regan in Camp Davis for peace talks, but she wasn't sure about any others.

While they hadn't talked much, they had met each other and had a chance to get a feel for each other. That was a good start. Dialog could come later. There was no point in rushing US-Soviet relations.

* * *

**1400 Hours; February 8****th****, 2012; Seattle University, Seattle; Washington State, United States of America**

A small group of students were seated around a table in the student union building.

"I don't get it, I mean what the hell is the opposite form of government of federalism?" demanded a frustrated Emma.

"Confederacy," Jack and Jason together without looking up at her.

"How so?" she asked annoyed they knew the answer like their names.

"A federalist government has multiple states or provinces with a strong central government that is the ruling body of the nation. A confederate government has strong individual power in the state/provincial governments with a weak central government that has limited ruling authority," said Jason Erich Maiwald, Jack's best friend and second in command, not that she knew that. Emma only knew they worked together and so did Maya Sakura Solomon, Jack's cousin.

Maya was picking bacon off her hamburger that she bought at the cafeteria. "I told those jackasses I'm Jewish. Don't they get I can't eat anything that comes from a pig?!"

Maya was half-Hispanic, half-Japanese. She could easily pass herself off as either, though she was a little darker than most Japanese. Still, Maya had claimed to be from Okinawa in a past assignment.

"People don't always get it, Maya," said Jack frowning a little at the insensitivity of some to others religions. Kinda' like people didn't know the difference between a Buddhist and Shinto.

"Besides, what makes you so sure that burger is really from a cow?" asked Jason. Maya frowned, but shrugged. Most Americans didn't like to question what their food was made of after they paid for it. Sometimes the answers were even a little frightening and left them wondering what the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) was doing.

"Hey, Emma!" said a woman approaching the table. "Did you hear? Party at Billy's house, lots of cute guys!"

"I have a guy," said Emma pointing to Jack who was ignoring the conversation.

"Oh, you two are still going out?" she asked blankly. Emma sighed and held up her hand showing the engagement ring. Without looking up from the 'History of Communist Russia' textbook, Jack held up his hand too.

"So like fun though, right Jack?" said Emma. Jack grunted. Emma smiled and nodded to her friend. The girl looked at Jack as though he was an interesting display, but he ignored her.

Jack was not famous for being social. He rarely talked to other people unless spoken too. He didn't make eye contact often. He hated crowds and loud noises. But he loved Emma and found himself dragged to one party after another… well it was only like once or twice a month, but more than he liked. Jack spent years in the military and covert operations.

He was different from average college students. To a student, a quad was a courtyard surround by four buildings and was a place to hang out. To Jack, a quad was a four-barrel weapon like a ZPU-4 or ZSU-23-4 Shilka. To a student, OMG was an appreciation for 'oh my god' and normally sent in the form of a textmessage. To Jack, OMG was an Operations Maneuvering Group that were the main assault groups of the Red Army. To a student, a linebacker was part of an American football team. To Jack, a Linebacker was a mobile-AA variation of the M2A2 Bradley IFV. Jack could write a book full of these things.

He made no comment though. He didn't want Emma to know how painful the experience was to him. People who were sure he worked for the CIA, which wasn't true since he worked for the CIFA, would ask him all kinds of questions that weren't even relevant to a real spy agency. People talking about things that just proved all kinds of negatives about Americans.

An hour later, Jack was sitting in Emma's car. She drove a silver four-door BMW. It was simple enough and had decent fuel efficiency and looked good for business purposes. Jack didn't say a thing, but that wasn't unusual for him.

He approached the front gate of the Shinhachi Clan's compound which was surrounded by a tall Asian-style wall. Emma entered the security number and slid her keycard in and out of the slot. The gate opened and she drove in.

Jack wondered off somewhere by himself.

More than once he thought about his problems. His parents didn't talk to each other much. They had hardly been a part of his life. He wondered why. Jack couldn't help but notice there was an 11 year age difference between him and his sister. Kathy was 33 and had two kids. Why the wait for a second child? The answer was obvious, they never intended to have him. That thought came to him when he was 13. After that had never started talking less and less. He broke off contact from nearly everyone. Only Jason, Maya, and Kathy had been there for him. But Kathy had left home for Harvard Law School when he was 8.

A froze for a moment. Someone was behind him. His training and experience were the only things that allowed him to detect the nearly silent person. He slowly shifted his hand for the hostile hidden under his jacket. The H&K USP .45 Compact was attach to his waistband…

"You won't need that, Jack," said Emma.

"You know what a bad idea it is to sneak up behind me?" he asked.

"You okay? I know you like the snow and cold, but is it really a good idea to be out?" she asked. "Come on, I'll make tea."

Quietly, Jack was led to the house. He met Emma the same year he started to shut down socially. She had seemed like a spoiled rich girl who was destined for trouble. He had saved her ass once a year later when she was caught in possession of an illegal drug. He'd learned not too long before he was an accomplished liar and good at manipulating people. He wasn't sure why he helped Emma, but he did. He'd only felt contempt for her and been entirely indifferent to her situation.

He never knew why she approached him later, but she did. She was a girl as lost and numb as him. They slowly developed a friendship that no one understood. It was odd, Emma shared Jack's contempt for spoiled and arrogant ways of teenagers and college age students, but she could interact with them in ways Jack couldn't bring himself to stand. Jack could however handle political and military people… though he was one of them. He grew up in a family of government workers so he had dealt with politicians and soldiers his whole life.

Jack sat down at the kitchen table. "Thanks, Emma."

She smiled sweetly, knowing he was thanking her for more than the tea.

"Just try to have fun. You can even think of it as a mission if it helps."

'Who do you think I am? We'll maybe a change of mind set would help,' he thought to himself. 'So how would I prepare for this party?'

* * *

**1000 Hours; February 9****th****, 2012; Sagamihara Air Base, Sagamihara; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

"What do you think, sir?" asked Second Lieutenant Kugashi Nobuyuki.

"Look nice, don't they?" asked Captain Nara Kentaro.

Mitsubishi Heavy Industries years ago had obtained the rights from the US aircraft company, McDonnell-Douglas, to build the F-15C Eagle, known as the F-15J in Japan. Six months ago Mitsubishi bought the rights to the upgrade pack for the Eagles. The US Air Force was upgrading their standard Eagles to the F-15G Super Eagle. This model feature supercruise, which meant the plane could fly at supersonic speeds without afterburners. It also had a 25mm Gatling gun instead of the old 20mm Vulcan. While it had less ammo, it had much longer range.

There were nine active squadrons across Honshu that flew F-15s. Two in Hokkaido, one in Shikoku, and three in Kyushu. There was also one in Okinawa. One was at the Dover Air Force Base and training with USAF pilots. It would join a second squadron at Rammstein AFB who were training with the Luftwaffe and Royal Air Force (RAF) (8).

Nara and Kugashi had gone overseas to fly with the mighty German and other NATO top guns.

The 201st Fighter Squadron, or White Fox Squadron, was only the second fighter squadron to get the Super Eagle. The 7 squadrons flying the F-2s, a plane that resembled the F-16, were also getting some upgrades.

There were 24 active fighter squadrons in the Japanese Federal Air Force, 28 active fighter-bomber squadrons, 5 bomber squadrons, 7 Wild Weasel squadrons, 8 electron warfare squadrons, 17 auxiliary/support squadrons, and 30 transport squadrons.

As for the Naval Air Force, under the command of the Japanese Federal Navy, each carrier had two F-14D squadrons, six F-18E squadrons, at least two E-2 Hawkeyes, and four S-2 Sea Vikings. That at least for the Sutsuru Class, but the smaller Ryūsu Class only was reduced by two squadrons.

Air Force were also upgrading their C-3 transport planes that were based on the US's C-17. The F-4 Phantoms flown by the Wild Weasels were being replaced by a variation of the F-15 that had its 20mm gun removed and replaced by SAM/search-radar dictators. The Federal Air Force was Japan's first line of defense and first striking power. Whoever wasn't destroyed or discouraged by the air attacks would face the Federal Navy.

Nara examined the Super Eagle up close. It used fuel more efficiently, something Japan was obsessed with. It had many environmental improvements including fewer emissions. It had the military advantages of longer range. Carbon emissions were hot when they came out of the plane, or car, so it was easy for heat sensors to pick up and lock-on to.

"This is supposed to out perform the Su-27 and MiG-29," said Nara. The newer Soviet planes like the Su-35, Su-37, and Su-47 were still more maneuverable, but they were rare.

"It's evenly matched with the Foxhound, right?" asked Kugashi.

"So I heard from the techs," said Nara with a shrug. The MiG-31 Foxhound wasn't used by the People's Liberation Army Air Force (PLAAF) that they fought in the Korean War, so they had only encountered Foxhounds in virtual simulations of Soviet Red Air Force pilots.

"Get Gatou and Takemoto, we're taking Flight 2 into the air and see how they handle."

"Roger that, Captain," said Kugashi.

* * *

**1800 Hours; February 9****th****. 2012; local residence, Belfast; Northern Ireland, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland**

A man with reddish hair got out of car in front of a house and looked around the street. No one was around as far as he could tell and he walked up the front walk. He pulled out a set of keys and opened the door.

It looked innocent enough to a man with dark brown hair who was watching from a house across the street, but he knew better.

Inside the house the man headed into the basement and knocked on the door.

"It's me," he said. The door opened.

"Well, laddy? What did they say?" asked an older man. There were three men in the room sitting in front of a table with one AK-47, two Uzis, and a sawed-off Regiment 870 shotgun with pistol grip.

"We're ready to go. Jumble won't know what hit 'im this time," laughed the man.

They packed up their guns and a radio. They headed upstairs and out the door.

"I'm gonna' miss this place. As safehouses go this was the nicest," commented one of the men. They reached the car and was about to open the door when two vans raced around the corner and came to a screeching halt in front of them. The doors popped open and 8 men and women leaped out of each van dressed in black uniforms and carrying H&K MP-5s.

"Police, on the ground now!" shouted the British security agents. The four Irishmen completely stunned dropped their bags with weapons inside and held up their hands.

"You fucking wankers are under arrest," said an agent shoving one of the Irishmen against the car.

"For wha'?" demanded the man.

"For conspiring to commit an act of terrorism," he said throwing them into a third van. In three minutes they were gone.

After several hours in London, England…

"His name is Sean Lassiter, member of Irish People's Liberation Army," said Phillip Bromley, a Secrete Intelligence Service (SIS) agent, to his senior Joshua Michelson.

"Never heard of it," said agent Michelson.

"It's a relatively new group, one of many created after the ceasefire with the IRA (Irish Republican Army) at in 2006," said Bromley reading from a file. "This was going to be their first major attack, but they bought explosives from an arms dealing group in Germany last year. GSG-9 arrested the arms dealers and faxed us a client list. We tailed one of their known members and followed him to their safehouse last night. No shots fired. Nice and clean, sir."

"Anything else?" asked Michelson watching Lassiter from behind the one-way window. Lassiter was alone in the interrogation room.

"The bugger claims he's an American citizen and won't recognize Her Majesty's laws and justice," said Bromley with a laugh.

"He what? Does he really believe the Yanks will protect a terrorist? They'll sever any ties with the man," said Michelson. "Guess I talk to him."

Michelson entered the windowless room and took a seat across from Lassiter at the metal table in the middle of the room. "Top of the morning, Mr. Lassiter. I'm Agent Josh Michelson of the SIS. You understand the charges before you? Do you want a solicitor?"

"I don't want no stinkin' lawyer. Get me someone from the US Embassy!" demanded Lassiter.

Michelson raised an eyebrow, "So, you want me to call the Americans and tell them a terrorist wants their protection? The United States and United Kingdom have extradition treaties. We have every right to prosecute you. Besides, do you even have a valid US Passport or some kind of identification to prove you're a citizen of the US?"

"I know something they might find interesting," he said with a sinister smile.

"They won't want to come down based on that. Give me a hint at what you know and I'm sure I'll be able to have someone here by the afternoon."

"You know we don't train in Ireland. We trained in the Balkans and we know some guys who would really interest anyone who wants Kosovo's leaders to see the end of summer."

It was a few seconds before Michelson realized his mouth was hanging open. He slowly left the room and made a call to a colleague in the British Embassy in Priština, Kosovo. Next he called the US Embassy and asked for them to send someone over immediately with a brief explanation of what was happening.

* * *

**1015; February 9****th****, 2012; Downtown, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Kenji slipped off his bike and looked at the address. It appeared to be the right place. He checked a sign on the front that said the business had been looking for was on the third floor. After scaling the stairs he was at a door a sign that read: Ugedi's Wedding Planning.

"Is anyone there?" asked Kenji as he entered the room.

"Irasshaimase (welcome)!" screamed a woman from behind Kenji.

"Gah!" shouted Kenji who instinctively reached for his hip for a gun or knife didn't have on him before common sense told him he was not under attack.

"Did I scare you?" asked the woman childishly. She was short with wide brown eyes and long green hair. She reminded Kenji of someone. "Oh my, well aren't you a handsome man."

"Uh, arigato," said Kenji who didn't notice the way she was eyeing him. "I'm Harima Kenji. Am I in the right place, are you Ugedi-san?"

"Iē, but I work for her," she said happily. Her eyes widen and she seemed to sag a little as she asked worriedly, "Are you getting married?"

"Me? Iē, I'm just the best man. So, what do we do?" he asked not noticing the woman perking up again upon hearing he wasn't getting married.

"Well first, I'm Tsukino Rie. You can call me Rie-chan. First a very important question."

"Sure, Rie-san," said Kenji not noticing the flirtiest smile.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Any idiot could see this had nothing to do with a wedding and realize Tsukino's intentions, but Kenji wasn't just any idiot.

"Hai, for about a year and two months."

The woman deflated again, but bounced back. 'We'll see about that. These big dumb ones are so easy to manipulate.'

While Kenji thought he was finally getting somewhere and totally oblivious to the situation before him, Tsukino plotted away. She could tell by the markings on his leather jacket that he was a veteran of the war. She wondered what sad excuse for a woman was wasting his time.

Meanwhile, at Sagamihara University, Tsukamoto Yakumo vaguely sensed something was wrong, but being in the middle of class she put it out of her mind. Even if something happened to Kenji, she knew he was either too strong or too dim-witted for something bad to happen.

* * *

I can't say I'm good at writing romance, but having an older sister who was a major part of my life led me to watch a number of romantic-comedies. I actually I kinda' grew to enjoy them, but who doesn't? Actually don't answer that.

Right now I'm just having plain good old American fun… that doesn't involve a shotgun, beer, or contact sports (because I don't drink, play sports, or own a gun… even if it would be easy and legal for me own a gun in my state).

Some of you are probably wondering where the war comes in… me too… I have some vague ideas, but I want to come up with a good solid reason both sides go to war. That takes time to set up. In the meantime I have a few ways to keep any desires for action satisfied. Remember with fictional war I mentioned in the last story? Well, I think I'm going to do some kind of flashback.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. Vienna is the capital of Austria, but there is also a city called Vienna in Fairfax County, Virginia. Metro trains indicate the direction they are bound in by their final destination.

2. If you're wondering why I know all this it's because I'm a resident of Northern Virginia. To get to the Holocaust Museum I take the Metro. L'Enfant Plaza is not a fun place to be at rush hour. Nor is Gallery Place-Chinatown and Metro Center. The three are the busiest stations in DC because all five (currently existing) lines converge on those three stations.

3. Yeah, I know. I ride this line so often I subconsciously memorized the announcements. This is exactly what a driver says. It various sometimes, but it's normally the same.

4. Most residents of the DC area call Washington DC either: the District, DC, or Washington. If you live within range of one of the Metro stations you are considered a resident of the DC Area which includes Northern Virginia, the District of Colombia, and Southern Maryland.

5. V is the designation for VIP units. VC is a VIP transport plane like Air Force One. VH is a VIP helicopter like Marine One. VH-3 is a variation of the standard Marine Corps/Navy SH-3 Sea King. The VH-60N White Hawk is a variation of the standard Marine Corps/Navy SH-60 Sea Hawk and Army UH-60 Black Hawk. A variation of the VH-71 Kestrel is being considered for standard US military service.

6. Some of you may be familiar with Ichijou Kousuke as Ichijou Karen's younger brother. He first made an appearance when Karen was walking home from work with Lala Gonzalez. From what little I can gather about him, he is a big fan of Dojibiron, a Power Ranger's spin off. He actually is friends with Imadori Kyousuke who is a fellow fan, despite being several years Kousuke's senior. He also might be a soccer player because in the first scene he appears he is kicking a soccer ball around with some degree of skill.

7. Online video gaming it so big in the Republic of Korea that it is practically considered a professional sport. It is my understand that you can find broadcasted games on TV such as Halo and Battlefield 2. According to my search, Starcraft is huge and is definitely broadcasted on TV.

8. The Royal Air Force, or RAF, is the air corps of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. It is one of the oldest air forces in the world, being created during World War I with the French Air Force and Luftwaffe. The RAF's mainstay fighter is currently the EF-2000 Typhoon and a fighter version of the Tornado. The RAF has purchased 150 F-35s along with the Royal Naval Air Force.


	3. Chapter 3: Sieg Frei!

Chapter three and I'm probably going to top 20,000 words with this, hell I might even reach 30,000.

Sorry about the delay, but I'M AT FUCKING COLLEGE SO STOP SPAMMING ME!!

Sorry about being rude ya'll, but my dad is all over me and I swear my blood pressure is going through the roof. Still the people here are pretty nice and my roommate is pretty easy going. He supports Obama, doesn't smoke or drink, and it relatively clean. The people in my dorm are pretty friendly.

I nearly failed the physical and on my way back to my dorm my leg cramped up and I was on the ground for a while… no one helped me and I had to limp back to my dorm at the bottom of the hill and up to the third floor.

I'm glad to see the sequel is generating interest. I was worried ya'll be sick of me.

Thanks for the reviews guys. Ominae thanks for the review. I know I've said this before but you've been a big help.

Oh and not every sentence or character portrays my personal views. Some really don't portray my personal views, I was just trying to create some more controversial characters. Especially some offensive statements about minority groups. As an Asian-American, I am part of a minority group myself too.

On an unrelated note, I bought the complete series pact of The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. I saw it in Best Buy and I couldn't help myself. It is a very unique anime and I've been toying with writing a fanfic for the Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya in the back of my mind.

I don't own any trademark or copywrite item. Please leave a review and/or tell a friend.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Sieg Frei!**

"History repeats itself."

Old Greek belief

**0900 Hours; February 10****th****, 2012; Shinhachi Compound, Kirkland; Washington State, United States of America**

Emma was looking over her latest work. Her first one had been based off her high school life at a school for students with various learning disabilities like Dyslexia, ADD, and ADHD. It was meant to bring an entertaining yet realistic view of America to Japan and Germany while still appealing to American readers. Her new one was to bring to light the conflict that had given birth to her Vatarland (Fatherland), the Bundesrepulik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany).

Most people didn't know much about the 1947 NATO-Soviet War, but she had her own family who could tell their stories. Jack had a great uncle in the 100th Infantry Battalion and Maya's grandfather on her father's side was in 4th Infantry Division. She had started with him…

* * *

**0700 Hours; December 1****st****. 1947; US Zone, Munich; Bavaria Staat, Republic of Germany**

"Hey, Ted, did you hear about what President Truman is up to?" asked Private Daniel Oden, a white man with blonde hair.

Sergeant First Class Joseph Solomon didn't really care what Oden was talking about. Frankly, he hated the man for his snide remarks against the Hispanic community from which Solomon came from. He just concentrated on the road as he drove the Willy's Jeep.

"What?"

"Said we might have to be in the same units as those niggers," said Oden. In 1947, Whites and Blacks served in segregated units until 1948 when President Harry S. Truman desegregated the US Military.

"Shut yur' yap, Oden," said PFC Howard Binder, who was sitting up front with Solomon.

"Make me, nigger lover," said Oden grinning.

'Don't temp me,' thought Solomon as he slowed at an MP checkpoint, Binder fingered his trusty Colt .45. There was a horse-drawn cart being search in front of them. There were two US MP's and four men in grey uniforms that weren't US or British.

"Ain't those Krauts?" asked Andrew Spencer who was manning the M1919A4 .30 Caliber light machine gun on its stand in the middle of the jeep. The four men were in fact Germans wearing their old grey tunics. They each had a Mauser Karabiner 1898 Kurz bolt-action rifle, or Kar 98K for short. Two were standing idly with rifles slung over their shoulders while the others were helping the MPs.

"Oi, what's the deal with the Krauts?" asked Pvt. Theodore Baxter to one of the MPs.

"Making themselves useful, you boys could do the same," said the MP waving them on. After a few minutes of driving they reached the 4th Battalion HQ of the 4th Infantry Division. Oden and Baxter wandered off while the others thanked god their weren't in the same platoon.

"Serge, the next time the Captain wants a favor, tell him to shove it," said Binder picking up his rifle, a Springfield M1 Garand .30-06 semi-automatic rifle. The Garand was standard issue to the US Army and Marine Corps. It held eight .30-06 caliber cartridges (7.62x63mm). The beauty was the clip automatically ejected when empty, but they found out the Germans, and now the Soviets, learned the distinctive ringing noise meant a soldier was out of ammo and was reloading.

"I think I can still hit him. About the same distance as that machine gunner back in Cherbourg (1)," said Spencer taking aim with his Garand.

"Screw him. The bullet is worth more," said Solomon picking up his M1 Thomason sub-machine gun from the dashboard. The M1 Thomason, or Tommy Gun as all Thomasons were often called, was the last of the Thomason series from its introduction in 1943 to when most SMGs were removed from regular service during the Vietnam War and was replaced by the H&K MP-5. The Thomason held could fire 30 .45 caliber rounds in about 3 or 4 seconds.

Inside the HQ, Captain Adam Lafitte approached Major John Summers office. As he reached for the door a man in a grey uniform opened it. He had an MP-40 SMG at his hip and when he saw Lafitte he snapped to attention with a click of his boot heels.

"Mien Herr," he said saluting. It looked like an American salute, but at a stepper angle. He stepped back for a man in an officer's uniform.

"I thank you fo'r your time, Herr Major," said the officer in broken English. He nodded at Lafitte, but did not salute. Lafitte knew the German was an Hauptmann by his insignia, it was the same rank as him.

"Jack, who the hell were they?" asked Lafitte entering the office.

"A captain from the 7th Panzergrendier Division," said Major Summers looking at a piece of paper. On the top was a yellow shield with a black bird of some kind. Below it was a black, red, and yellow flag and the words: Bundesrepublik Deutschland. "What the fuck does Bundeswehr mean?"

"Roughly translated, Federal Forces. Why?"

"That's what Captain von something-or-rather said he was from. Wanted to assure me that he was not our enemy and requested gas for two of their Panzer battalions."

"Eh?" said a stunned Lafitte. On the one hand, the idea of the German tanks mobilizing again was horrifying, but on the other hand…

"We have problems, sir. That's why I'm here. The Canadian 4th Rifle Battalion was overrun and the 33rd Royal Guards Armor Regiment is under a heavy Russky attack with Yukes joining them."

The main tank among the new North Atlantic Treaty Organization was the M3 Sherman medium tank. It was cheap and easy to build. It was even to repair. Very fast and light. Not hard to transport in large numbers by ship or train (2). The problem was the Sherman was thinly armored and didn't fair well against the German's deadlier tanks or the Soviets. All American and British (3) tankers knew their tanks would not survive a direct hit from the Soviet 76.2 mm gun and their armor could even catch fire (4). NATO was losing a lot of tanks daily to the heavier T-34 medium tank and the slow lumbering JS-3 heavy tank.

"Don't we have Pershings or something?" asked Lafitte. The M26 Pershing heavy tank was a powerful US tank with a 90 mm, but only a few hundred were deployed and the Soviets had over a thousand T-34s.

"About 20, but Ivan has a lot of those nasty JS tanks. The Captain said his superiors could deploy 50 Tigers and a lot more of their lighter shit," said Summers almost wistfully. More than once Americans had said 'if only we had one of those god damn Tigers'. "At the least, we'll have 88s backing us. That'll be a nice change not having them shooting at us."

"Command won't like it. What will General Bradley say?" asked Lafitte. General Omar Bradley was in command of the US troops at Normandy. He was one of the most senior commanders in Europe along with George S. Patton. Patton had died in a car accident on December 21, 1945. General Dwight D. Eisenhower, supreme commander of Allied forces in Europe, had retired from military life. No one knew at this time that he was become US President after Truman.

"I don't know. These Krauts show up out of nowhere for the past month and start fighting with us," said Summers shaking his head. "Well… we'll need to prepared Munich for attack. The only reinforcements I've been promised are the Nisei Battalion… well and all the available infantry from the 7th Panzergrenadiers."

Munich was going to be under siege.

* * *

**1000 Hours; February 10****th****, 2012; Shinhachi Compound, Kirkland; Washington State, United States of America**

Emma put down her pen. That would be enough for now.

Nisei Battalion was the 100th Infantry Battalion of the 442nd Infantry. They were a group of roughly 1,400 Second-Generation Japanese-Americans or Nisei.

Jack Shinhachi was a Sansei, a Third-Generation Japanese American (5).

'Guess that would make any kids we have Yonsei,' she thought. Emma decided to get some breakfast and work on it later. Besides, she needed to ask Jack for details about Saito Shinhachi, his great-uncle.

* * *

**0945 Hours; February 10****th****, 2012; Bridge, JFS Sutsuru; Pacific Ocean, International Waters**

The Japanese Federal Navy 2nd Fleet was currently conducting drills. The 2nd Fleet comprised of four squadrons and eight independent flotillas. Each squadron had one or two cruisers and six to eight frigates and destroyers. The flotillas were had four or more destroyers or frigates divided into small groups as picket lines.

The fleet was in formation with the JFS Ryūhō's squadron at the front and the JFS Ryūkumo (Dragon's Cloud) was behind it by 20km. 30km behind the Ryūkumo's squadron and 10km south was the JFS Sutsuru. 25km ahead of the Sutsuru was the battleship JFS Shōwa. They were encircled by a ring of frigates and destroyers picking the fleet. The picket lines were kilometers apart and a number couldn't even see the others in the picket line. Their job was to detect submarines and planes before they could get near the carriers or battleship.

"Lieutenant Hinamori, nan-ji?" asked Vice Admiral Byuten Noguchi to his aide, Lieutenant Junior Grade Hinamori Momo. Hinamori had originally been the aide of the captain of the Sutsuru, but she was reassigned to the commander of the 2nd Fleet.

Lieutenant Hinamori a petite brunette with her hair tied in a bun under a piece of cloth pulled out a Navy-issued pocket watch and consulted. "0145 Zulu."

In the navies like the US Navy, Royal Navy, French Navy, or Japanese Federal Navy ships often crossed time zones. Because squadrons often in a different time zone from their fleet group commanders or fleet HQ, it wasn't very convenient to tell time by their current position. Most of NATO set their watches and clocks to Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) or hour Zulu. GMT ran down where the North Atlantic met the North Sea and included the Iceland, UK, Ireland, Portugal, some of western Africa, and number of islands.

"Bring us up to 25 kt and will do a dash for now and then dropped to 12 kt," said Rear Admiral JG Nojima Shino. She was the new commander of the Sutsuru and its escorts after Captain Hokai was transferred to 3rd Fleet. She picked up a phone and pressed a button, "Bridge to com, tell the Mogami to pick up the pace."

"Aye, Admiral," said a man in the communication room.

Vice Admiral Byuten's phone rang and he picked it up. "Yellow Commodore."

"This is Papa-Papa-Oscar, Yellow Shark," said a woman. Byuten knew that was the callsign for one of the picket ships to the north. "Leakers of unknown origin inbound. Course heading: 175. Altitude: 3,200 m (10,498.69 ft). Speed: 300 kt (555.6 km/h or 345.23 mph). We'll keep you updated."

"This is Papa-Papa-November, we see them too," reported a second frigate.

"Numbers?" asked Byuten.

"Looks like a squadron, Admiral. 18 planes."

'18, but that's not a normal squadron size.' Decided to contact the squadron bu having one of his English speaking subordinates make a call. "This is Japanese Federal Ship Sutsuru of the Japanese Federal Navy. Squadron leader, please respond."

Not response. That was odd to them. The US was pretty good about ID'ing themselves if they accidentally passed into the defensive zone of a Japanese fleet. The Australians would respond too. South Korean and Taiwanese didn't usually operate in the open ocean.

The group was now being shown on the fleet's joint radar system.

"Russians," said Hinamori. Others nodded in agreement. It wasn't the first time a group of Soviet planes was flying south to harass Anderson Air Force Base on Guam. The Russians seemed to like to keep their pilots busy by having them fly near Japanese and US airspace. The Europeans made the same complaints of Soviet recon planes, electronic warfare planes, transport planes, strategic bombers, and sometimes fighter planes flying too close to their airspace. Last month a Soviet Tu-95 had flown over Hokkaido, but was forced to land by a flight of F-15Js. The crew was returned to Russia. The Russians had been livid about the Japanese refusing to give back the plane. The Japanese told the Soviets they could have it back if they explained why it had violated Japanese Airspace.

Needless to say the Japanese were still waiting for an answer and the Tu-95 currently being treated as property of the Federal Air Force.

"Ensign Nakuma, please inform our 'comrades' they need to turn back," said Byuten to Ensign Nakuma Suzuka.

"Soviet planes! This is Engisn Nakuma of the Japanese Federal Navy. You are approaching a Federal Navy fleet. Turn back or steer clear of our group. If you are need of escort we will send fighters to do so. Pazhawlusta (please) respond or be fired upon!"

Technically the Japanese couldn't open fire at a country or their units that the Japanese weren't at war with, but the Japanese often interrupted it liberally, especially the Navy.

"Admiral, White Tuna flight 2 is airborne and turning to intercept from the Ryūhō, ETA 5 minutes," reported Hinamori. Covering roughly 70km in that time was impressive. "All of Shark Squadron is launching."

Byuten checked his watch when the last of Shark Squadron's F-14DJs were off the deck. Two minutes was pretty good for getting a naval squadron of 12 in the air; naval squadrons were often a little smaller than an air force squadron.

"Com, tell the Mogami to move between us and incoming Reds," ordered Rear Admiral JG Nojima. The cruiser JFS Mogami positioned itself so any planes would have to pass over it. "All radars to standby. Arm chaffs. All hands to the ready. If those planes don't respond we're going to general quarters."

"Aye, ma'am," said several voices at once. She paused then turned to face her superior. "Is that a bit much?"

He considered the question and shook his head, "Iē. If you had ordered ships to take up firing positions I'd be worried, but a repositioning and arming counter-measures is perfectly responsible."

"Right. Have the Akato slow and keep an eye out for attack boats, carrier reduced speed to 20kt."

The engines slowed from the 33 kt they had to achieve to launch planes to 20 kt at ordered. A destroyer in the squadron trailed behind to 9 kt and started passive-sonar scans for possible submarines.

"You really think they'd send a boat to trail us?" asked Hinamori.

"You remember the Yellow Sea just as well as me, Lieutenant. Better safe than sorry," said Byuten. Hinamori didn't need a reminder of the large amounts of blood she lost when a Chinese anti-ship missile exploded and damaged the very bridge she was in.

"They're Blackjacks, sir," said a radar tech. The Tupolev Tu-160, known as the Blackjack among NATO, was a supersonic strategic bomber.

"Prep some Sea Sparrows, but do not target or fire them without permission," ordered Nojima.

"Aye, ma'am. Arming surface-to-air missiles and standing by."

The radio Nakuma was on keyed in and she got a respond at last. "Comrade Ensign, this is Major Zergatov of 87th Bomber Squadron. We apologize for our intrusion on your fleet. We are turning back now. Da sveedahnyah (good-bye)."

"Blackjacks are changing course… they're heading back to Russia. If they stay on this course they'll be heading to Kamchatka Peninsula (6)," said a radar tech.

"Understood, we're returning to our drills," ordered Byuten.

Meanwhile in the Soviet planes…

"Comrade Major, are we really returning to base?" asked one of the flight leaders.

"Da, that Jap fleet shouldn't have been their. Still we learned something. The Jap Navy is a lot more active these days. We also learned how far off they can detect us and their reaction times. Perhaps Moscow will find that useful."

* * *

**1000 Hours; December 4****th****, 1947; 4****th**** Infantry Battalion HQ, Munich; Bavaria Staat, Federal Republic of Germany?**

What is this Federal Republic of Germany the Germans keep talking about? It didn't seem to matter who came. Jews, Catholics, Methodists, Freemasons, and all kinds that were either in the former Wehrmacht from World War II or from the camps were now in service. Hell, the Germans didn't even seem to care if they were male or female because a number of women were with them too.

And who the hell was this Chancellor Bernhard Ernst Schumacher? Americans and British could vaguely remember the Germans holding an election because they refused to recognize the one the Allies had created, but no one really knew Chancellor Schumacher. Not Prime Minister Winston Churchill or President Harry Truman or certainly not General-Secretary Josef Stalin.

Sergeant Solomon was outside of battalion HQ filling sandbags with dirt as the and other soldiers dug trenches. Yesterday the Soviet's Red Air Force attacked with their twin-engine Ilyushin Il-4 medium bomber, known as the Bob, had attacked Munich.

It had been the first time Soviet planes had attacked this far into Germany since last month. The Bobs could only 2,500 kg (5,500 lb) of bombs. It wasn't a great bomber, but the Soviets had over 5,000 of them when production ceased in 1944. Their US counter-part, the North American Aviation B-25 Mitchell, could carry 2,700 kg of bombs and was much better built.

They heard a roar of a plane motor and looked up.

"It's a Brit," said Solomon seeing the RAF insignia on the lone Supermarine Spitfire Mk. V, which was considered the best plane of the RAF. It had four .303 machine guns and two 20mm auto-cannons. The new United States Air Force was flying their Boeing B-17 Flying Fortresses over Munich and east of the city to bomb the advance Soviets, but bad weather was threatening to halt the Americans greatest advantage over the Communists.

A Flak 36 88 mm gun was sitting in the middle of the open square where the HQ was positioned and a Flak 38 20 mm quad gun. The Americans had also added two of their M16 half-tracks with quad .50 cal AA-guns mounted on its rear in the square. The quads were good for fighter planes like the Yak-9, MiG-3, or the Il-2 fighter-bomber, but not so good for high flying bombers like the new Tu-4. The 88 could take out bombers and tanks.

It made everyone a little uncomfortable that the Germans were manning the Flak guns and had a company protecting them. These Heer (Army) soldiers wore gray uniforms and steel helmets. They carried MP-40 sub-machine guns, Kar 89K bolt-action rifles, and a few MG-42 light machine guns. A few men even had the Gewehr G-43 semi-automatic rifle. The MP-40 fired the 9x19 mm parabellum which at the time was only used by Italy, Britain, and Germany, but would be the most common pistol cartridge in use. The Kar 89K, G-43, MG-42, MG-34, and FG-42 all used the 7.92x57 mm cartridge.

The Germans would abandon the 7.92 when NATO created its first standardized cartridge, the 7.62x51 mm a few years later.

"Do you trust these Krauts, Serge?" asked Spencer.

Solomon looked over at the German company CO. He looked like someone who gained a lot of weight recently, but not hiding a skeleton like appearance. He was very pale from past malnutrition.

"Their CO, I think he's a Jew," said Solomon. It would explain why he looked so sickly. The poor guy must have lived in one of the camps.

A second later the Hauptmann (Captain) turned to survey and Solomon saw a gold Star of David hanging on a thin chair around the man's neck. Just like the silver one he wore.

A jeep approached the battalion HQ. It had what looked like a target painted on the hood, but was really the insignia of the British Royal Army. A British major and leftenant (7) got out with three guards armed with Lee-Enfield No. 4 bolt-action rifles. The Lee-Enfield had an extended internal magazine that protruded out of one side of the rifle. It fired ten .303 caliber (7.7x56 mm) cartridge. It was a little shorter than its German or Soviet counter-parts and didn't have the rate-of-fire the American Garand boasted.

"Major Summers?" asked Major John Winslow of the 41st Rifle Battalion of the 33rd Royal Guards Armor.

"In there, sir. Second floor," said Sergeant 1st Class Solomon pointing to the small hotel being used as their HQ.

"Much obliged, Sergeant," said Major Winslow heading for the building. In a few minutes he was inside and headed for Major Summers's office.

"Come in," called Summers. Winslow entered the room and found himself face to face with 32-year-old man and seated before his desk was an Asian man in his 20s.

"Major John Winslow, 41st Rifles. Are you Major Summers?"

"Yes, have a seat. This is Captain… uh," Summers wasn't sure how to pronounce the name.

"Captain Saito Shinhachi of the 100th Infantry, sir," said the man quietly.

"Captain-san, here was just getting an update," said Major Summers clapping the shorter Nisei man on the shoulder. Captain Shinhachi scowled at being called 'Captain-san'.

"Jolly good, now I got one for you, Yank. Ivan just blew through our lines yesterday with massive armor assault groups. Seems like they learned a little something from Jerry about the 'Blitzkrieg'. Speaking of which, Jerry was a big help with their riflemen and arty. They had to drag their 88s and Moaning Minnies (8) by hand or horse, but they helped stem the tide."

The leftenant placed a strange looking weapon on the table. It had wooden grips and stock. A gas-piston receiver above the barrel and a curved clip. It also had a folding bayonet underneath the barrel.

"What the hell is that?" asked Major Summers.

"Called the SKS. New semi-auto rifle. Some of the elite Russian units are carrying these things," said Winslow. "Word is that Ivan has some new rifle called the Avtomat Kalashnikov. The Reds also have a jet in the works. Rumor has it they rounded up a bunch of German scientists to build these things."

"I don't like the sound of that, but more to our immediate situation, what kind of forces are headed our way?"

"A motor-rifle regiment and a battalion of paratroopers. Maybe two squadrons of fighter their Yak-9s and MiG-3s and two more of their Il-2 fighter-bombers. Nasty stuff headin' this way. Monty has promised us 17-pounders (9) and a company of Priest tanks."

Monty was General Bernard Law Montgomery of the British Royal Army. Monty was considered an idiot, asshole, jerk… and those were the kinder things the Americans said. The British too found Monty… difficult, but was bettered liked by his countrymen.

"Priests, eh?"

Priest tanks weren't tanks. They were 105 mm self-propelled artillery guns mounted on the chassis of a standard Sherman tank without the turret. Although the crew was exposed in the open air, the SP was cheap and proved highly effective when properly protected from attack.

"Ivan has the Katyusha, though," added Winslow.

"The what-?"

**Ka-boom!**

The office rocked and shook and everyone hit the floor. There was the roar of an airplane engine and Majors Summers and Winslow caught a glimpse of a white plane with a red star on it.

"Black Deaths, shoot them down!" screamed the German anti-air crews. 20 mm fire filled the air as the Flak 38 started shooting at Il-2s. The Germans called them the Black Death because they were used at tank busting.

The Flak 36 fired a single 88 and blew the wings off an Il-2. From behind a Yak-9 with its single 20 mm and twin .50 cals blazing shot up the 88 crew only to find itself in the sights of one of the M16 halftracks.

Air raid sirens blared and a call for the newly formed USAF to send air support was sent out.

A flight of North American Aviation P-51D Mustangs turned towards central Munich.

"This is Charlie 5, I see two Il-2s closing in on the 4th Battalion HQ. Take 'im out," ordered the flight leader.

The Mustangs' engines increased their speed and power with a growl and they accelerated at rooftop level. The leader waited until he had one of the Il-2s in his optical sights before firing a burst from his six .50 cals. The second Il-2 tried to escape, but the Mustangs were extremely maneuverable, especially at low altitudes, which left it with no escape for the other three planes.

"Are those ours?" asked Charlie 7 seeing nine planes closing from above.

A burst of green tracers answered the question as a group of Curtis P-40 Warhawks dived on them. During the war, the US had given the Soviet their outdated or unwanted planes like the Bell P-39 Aircobra or the Warhawks currently attacking.

The Warhawks shared the Mustangs advantage at low altitudes, but lacked it armament.

"Charlie 8 is going down… shit he just crashed!"

"Got one, eat that Ivan… fuc-"

"Charlie 7 just bought it," said Charlie 6 seeing Charlie 7 get cornered by a section of three Warhawks.

"This is Sprite Leader, does anyone read me?" asked an Englishman.

"This is Charlie 5, boy are we glad to hear a Brit."

"Is that you lot flying around that town square, Yank?"

"Yup, we have five Hawks all over us and would like help."

"Roger, tally oh."

Eight Supermarine Spitfire Mk. Vs raced out of the sun and on top of the Soviet P-40s. Another eight was circling over a squadron of Yak-9s escorting a three Il-4 Bobs.

"Major, I see bombers inbound for the Yanks battalion HQ. Permission to engage," asked a captain.

"Go ahead and show those bloody Reds what Her Majesty's Royal Air Force is made of."

"Roger. Da svee-dah-nyah (good-bye), Ivan," said the captain diving on the Bobs with his 20mm guns pelting the hapless twin-engine bombers. Like many Soviet planes the Bobs sacrificed armor for cost-effectiveness. At the steep angle the Spitfires were attacking, the gunners had trouble bringing their weapons to bear.

The 20 mm ripped through the Bobs' fuselages like they were made of paper. The Spitfires pulled out and fired burst of their .303 caliber machine guns at the Yak-9s.

"Sir, more Yaks are coming and MiGs too. Oh Shite, they just don't give up do they?"

MiG-3s were some on the longest range fighters in the Red Air Force and cheap to produce. At one point in 1940 the Soviets were completing 10 a day. But with one 12.7 mm (.50 cal) and two 7.62 mm (.30 cals), the MiG-3s lacked firepower.

Black puffs of smoke filled the skies in front of the MiGs and Yaks German 88s pounded the Soviet planes. The puffs of smoke didn't look dangerous and they weren't, but the hundreds of pieces of shrapnel flying out of them were extremely dangerous to planes. A few of the Soviet fighters were chewed up by the AA screen, but as the British neared the Soviets the 88s went silent for fear of shooting down friendly planes.

Yaks and MiGs seemed to have difficulty regrouping and were torn apart by the RAF pilots and only a handful survived. Once a little distance was in between the Soviets and British, the German Flak 36s, Flak 43, and Flak 38s opened fire. 88 mm, 37 mm, and 20 mm fill the air around the Russian pilots.

"Looks like Ivan has had enough for today."

On the ground, a number of vehicles were burning and several AA crews were dead. The initial surprise attack had done the most damage, but at the cost of several pilots. Though, the Soviets had over 15,000 Yak-9s, the most common plane in the Soviet Red Air Force, and MiG-3s were extremely cheap and quick to build. Pilots too were easy to get since the Soviet Union had mandatory draft during both peace and war time, as oppose to the United States which only had war time drafts and military service was voluntary during peace time.

"What's the squad's condition?" asked Sergeant Solomon after he climbed out of the very trench he was digging in case of an air raid.

"Smith and Donovan bought it, sir. Fontana needs a medic, but the rest are okay."

"Make sure the Krauts recrew that 88. I doubt the Red Air Force is done with us."

* * *

**1715 Hours; February 11****th****, 2012; Glebe Road, Alexandria; Commonwealth of Virginia, United States of America**

Viktor Pretrović was driving his car across Four Mile Run, a creek that also served as overflow for rainwater when storms came through, but it was currently frozen over. February and mid-January were the normal snowy seasons for the Washington area.

He passed a sewage treatment plant. The storage facilities were enclosed and handsomely built. Pretrović suspected the people living on the hill next to the plant complained constantly. Passing through the next intersection was a yard for the Metro Bus service where they buses were parked for the night or repaired. For some reason that Pretrović never understood, there was a Porsche and BMW dealership. It was on the corner of a major street, but it was next door to an electrical substation and bus yard and a block away from a sewage treatment plant. He thought the Toyoda dealership across Four Mile Run was smarter being in a nice neighborhood and not next door to city utilities.

If Pretrović turned left on the intersection of Route-1 and Glebe Rd he would either be on a road to would go past the Pentagon and meet George Washington Parkway, or could take him to I-395 into downtown Washington.

He turned right, however, and then turned left into Potomac Yards. Potomac Yards was once a railroad yard owned by the state and shared by several railroads. It was here the many of the northeast railroads would transfer to the southeast ones. Today it was a large shopping complex complete with Starbucks Coffee, Best Buy, Barnes & Nobles, Target, movie theater, and several other stores. CSX freight trains and Amtrak passenger trains still rolled by on the tracks behind the complex.

He parked in front of the Staples and got out of his car. He looked at a black car that parked nearby. Pretrović wasn't sure, but he thought that car was behind him for a while… almost as if it was following him.

He shrugged it off and headed into the office supply store.

"Do you think he saw us?" asked an FBI agent in the black car.

"Looks like he doesn't think anything is wrong, but we better keep our distance," concluded a second in the passenger seat with a camera with a powerful telescoping lens.

"Is it him?"

"The picture the Brits faxed over looks right."

The agent behind the driver's seat compared the picture in the file faxed over from the SIS's home office in London to the FBI, DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency), and Department of Homeland Security offices in Washington DC. It was possible the CIA, DIA, and NSA and other agencies that weren't supposed to operate in the United States were watching.

"Let's keep are distance."

"Good idea, Drew."

* * *

**1000 Hours; February 12****th****, 2012; Natsuyami Inn, Kyoto; Kyoto Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

"Irasshaimasen (welcome)," called out a bespectacled young woman bowing to a group of tourists coming into the main entrance hall. She was dressed in a long sleeve kimono to match the traditional Japanese style inn that was common in the former capital of Japan. Kyoto was known as the 'City of a Thousand Shrines'.

"Aiteru heya arimasuka (do you have any rooms available)?" asked one of the men.

"Hai," said the woman nodding. "It is 6,000-en a night for a room and that includes dinner and free access to hot springs."

"Hai, kore de ii desu (okay, I'll take it)," decided the man. "We'll need it until Sunday and we'll need three rooms."

"Hai," complied Natsuyami Tsumugi, formerly Yūki Tsumugi. She entered the information into a desktop computer on the receptionist desk after taking a credit card to make sure the group could pay for the rooms.

"Ano, gozen shichi-ji ni okoshite kudasai (please wake me at 7:00 am)," said a woman in the group. "We want to go see the sites."

"Hai, I'll make sure we send a wake up call."

The group ventured inside the inn as a second person showed them to their rooms.

"Tsumugi," said a bespectacled man from behind her.

"Hai, Keisuke?" said Tsumugi looking up at her husband.

"Did you get that letter from the Navy?"

"Hai," she sighed. Tsumugi and Keisuke were both on the reserve lists for the Federal Navy. The latest Japanese ships didn't need as many people to crew them, to make for Japan's lack of youth, so they didn't need full crews during peacetime. However, the Navy did not think it wise to have a married couple on the same ship and had transferred Tsumugi to the JSF Shōwa. It was a small comfort that the Navy was sympathetic enough to allow them to stay in the same fleet.

"I think we have to report to Sasebo next weekend."

"I book us a train ticket San'in."

The San'in Main Line ran from Kyoto to Shinomoseki and operated both passenger and freight. It was one of the two busiest lines on the JR West Railway Company. The other being the one that ran along from the Seto Inland Sea from Osaka to Shinomoseki. Either way you were transferring from JR East and would transfer to JR Kyushu.

"What do they want this time?"

"The usual, check for fitness and so on."

Every other month the reservists had to report for a weekend to the nearest base. They would spend the first day doing physical exercises and the next in classrooms being reminded of things like tactics and keeping up with the ever changing world of modern militaries.

"Oh, Keisuke?"

"Hai?"

"I classmate of mine is getting married back home. They haven't set a date yet, but I would like if we could go," Tsumugi said knowing Keisuke would loved to Yagami again. He found Tsumugi's classmates fascinating and diverse.

"As long as the Navy says I can't," he said with a warm smile.

* * *

**1200 Hours; February 12****th****, 2012; Test Ground #31-032, 23km outside of Khabarovsk; Kharovsk Krai, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic**

A squadron of Ilyushin Il-76Ds approached a mostly flat area in far eastern Russia, not too far a flight to the Pacific Ocean.

"This is Green Cloud Leader, we are approaching the LZ. ETA 4 minutes and counting. Are we ready, Observation Post #1?" asked the pilot of the lead transport.

"Da, Green Cloud. Begin as planned. Out."

The land they were approaching was flat land too dry to be farmed and was then subjected as a test group for Soviet Airborne Troops. It had hills and mountains around it that made perfect observation posts for various officers and party members. It also wasn't too hard for a squad to watch from a hill far away from the Soviets, but close enough to see.

"Pasha, give the flight crew the green."

"Da, Comrade Major," said the co-pilot flipping a switch on the panel.

The group of Soviet observers watched with binoculars and spotter-scopes, that were normally used by forward artillery observers, as the rear cargo doors on the Candids. A large object, that looked quite small from 4,500 m, were yanked out of the planes via a pilot-chute. Normally pilots-chutes were just small parachutes that pulled the main chute free, but this one was a rocket.

A tri-canopy parachute, which was basically three parachutes attached to one object, was released. Tri-canopies were normally used for heavy objects like crates or light vehicles.

The rockets helped increase the amount of drag to slow the objects before impacts with the ground. This was a trick originally created by the Soviets, but dismissed by Westerns for a while as being too dangerous as a means to deploy armor personnel carriers and infantry fighting vehicles with paratroopers. Recently the West had started finding safer ways of doing this.

"Chute number #2 failed," said a man.

"So it seems," agreed a second as they watched as one of the parachutes tear and collapse.

"It's only a T-54. We can afford the loss Comrade Marshal," said a young captain to Minister of Defense Nergetov.

"The retrorocket on chute #7 has exploded," announced one of the observers. A rocket exploding in midair hadn't exactly gone unnoticed.

"The rocket on chute #6 has become detached," called another observer.

"Chute #1 has landed. It was only 20 m outside of its projected LZ."

Out of the 18 chutes, 7 failed in midair and two more failed to slow down their load before impact with the ground. One was over 80 m outside of its landing zone.

"The Russians are getting better," said an observer, but not a Soviet one.

"Too good. If that had been a real armor company, half would still be functional and within 30 m of its LZ," said another.

"I pass it on to our handler."

* * *

**1514 Hours; February 12****th****, 2012; Hanai Dojo, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

"So we were thinking of having the party here," said a tall well-endowed woman with blue hair.

"I see and you plan on having the ceremony up at Yagami Shrine?" asked Tsukino.

"Hai," nodded Haruki.

A traditional Japanese wedding has two parts. The first is the actual ceremony where the bride, groom, direct family, and a select group of close friends attend. Normally only a couple dozen or less people get to watch the ceremony conducted by a priest or priestess. The after party is what most people get to attend and it can comprise of over a hundred people.

"Is that what you intended, Harima-kun?" asked Tsukino sweetly. Kenji had been standing off to the side and only vaguely listening.

"Uh, well… it's their wedding," he shrugged.

Tsukino giggled, Kenji shrugged again, Haruki looked as if he was trying to understand what was so funny to Tsukino, but Mikoto narrowed her eyes.

Mikoto was not actually a dating 'expert' nor was she really that feminine, but her woman's intuition was alive and well. "So, Tsukino-san, have you met Tsukamoto-san?"

"Eh?"

"Have you met Tsukamoto Yakumo? My best friend's little sister and Kenji-kun's girlfriend? She's a really sweet and talented young woman who also helps him with his manga," said Mikoto. 'Kenji-kun, baka (Kenji you idiot). Don't you see what she's doing?!'

Of course he didn't and Mikoto wasn't going to say it out loud. Mikoto didn't know what to do. Haruki would flip out and do something totally stupid and embarrassing. If she told Tenma, she would probably do something even stupider. Akira wouldn't be in town until Tuesday. Telling Yakumo might not be such a good idea. Kenji probably wouldn't even know what to do.

Mikoto needed someone smart, vicious, unstoppable, and determined. Someone who she could trust. Someone who could put anyone in their place…

"Haruki, Kenji-kun, Tsukino-san, would you three excuse me for a second I need to make a quick call," said Mikoto rubbing the back of her head nervously.

"Is something wrong, Mikoto?" asked Haruki recognizing her gesture was one she did when she was panicking or nervous.

"Just realized I needed to call someone back."

"Uh, okay," he said as she ran out the door.

Once Mikoto was sure she was in a safe place she pulled out her cellphone and checked her contacts list. After a few rings a woman answered.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Eri? It's me, Mikoto. We have a little problem and I think you're the only one who can help."

* * *

**1600 Hours; February 12****th****, 2012; Karakura Central Station, Karakura; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

"Oi, midget, watch where you're going," said a tall man with orange hair.

"Shut up, and don't call me midget," said a short petite woman with black hair who was reading a textbook as she descended the stairs.

Karakura Station was owned by JR East. There was an east and west station for the Sagami-gawa Line that operates from the west end of the prefecture to near where Sagami-gawa let out in Tokyo Bay by the city of Hinata. One of the principal lines from the north that ran south until it met JR West, adding a north and south station. The two lines intersected at the Central Terminal. Karakura wasn't a metropolis, but it was large… though Yagami had more skyscrapers and a larger population.

JR East only had a limited number of trains that stopped at Karakura and Tokyo.

This made it hard for Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia who attended the University of Tokyo. Rukia was pushing for a law degree in criminal law and Ichigo a medical degree in internal medicine.

"You know how hard it is to memorize 30 different cases across Japan alone?" she demanded. Law students of any kind whether criminal, civil, or corporate, must learn a number of cases from corporate law suits to murder trials. Lawyers were also expected to keep up with major or groundbreaking cases printed in law journals.

"Do you know how hard it is to know about all the new drugs coming out every other day?" he asked annoyed. As with most medical students, Ichigo was expected to keep up with the changing medical world and in internal medicine new things came out every month.

Trailing behind them was Inoue Orihime who was humming pleasantly to herself and wondering what absurd dish to make for dinner. Orihime attended to same school as Ichigo, but she was in surgery which had very different requirements. Unlike internial medicine which demanded a degree of understanding of biology and chemistry and being any to recognize symptoms quickly, surgery demanded detailed knowledge of the human anatomy, careful planning, and extremely steady hands. Although Orihime had performed surgeries during the war, her license to practice was not considered valid during peacetime for private practice. Her knowledge of surgery was limited compared to fully-trained surgeons and the kind of surgery done in mobile army surgical hospitals (MASH) limited. A MASH only worked to treat the moderately wounded and stabilize the critical ones for rear hospitals and to treats numerous soldiers in a short amount of time. MASHs however, since the US Army created them after World War II, they had increased the likelihood of a soldier living after being wound by 90-percent.

"You have appreciation for how hard I work."

"You're one to talk, midget."

**Stomp!**

"Ah, shit. What the hell is your problem?!"

"Don't call me midget!"

"Fine! Have it your way, pipsqueak," said Ichigo throwing his hands up in the air.

"Do you really want me to kick your ass?!" raged Rukia.

"Do you-?" started Ichigo.

"Do you two know how much of a scene you're making?" asked a calm voice from behind. Ishida Uryū was shaking his head as he descended the stairs from the east-west/Sagami-gawa Line platforms. "Konnichiwa, Orihime-chan. How were classes today?"

"Good, Uryū-kun," said Orihime cheerily.

Rukia and Ichigo settled into silence. Anyone who knew them knew this was routine for the couple. Someone would either break it up or one of them would be rendered unconscious.

"What happened this time?" asked Uryū.

"Rukia-chan is upset because Ichigo-kun can't come to dinner with her brother next weekend. She thinks he's using his training for an excuse to escape. Anyways, they've been arguing over every little thing," said Orihime airily. Orihime seemed bubbly and oblivious, but to an extent she was very aware of the people around her.

"It was predetermined over a month ago," said Uryū shaking his head.

"True, but Ichigo was a little too happy about it."

'Can you blame him?' thought Uryū. Kuchiki Byakuya wasn't known for being warm and friendly.

They went their separate ways, but Rukia and Ichigo walked together. They were in dead silence, but both knew the tension had lowered considerably.

"Just admit it, you don't want to go," she said quietly.

"Of course I don't," said Ichigo bluntly. Rukia glared, but he pressed on. "He hates me, Rukia. I know you want us to get along and I've tried. I've really tried, but he is determined to hate me…… I'm sorry."

Rukia looked at him for a little bit then she took his hand. "I just needed you to be honest."

Honesty came pretty naturally to Ichigo, something Rukia liked about him. If he had an opinion he usually shared it and was blunt about it.

"But we eating dinner with the others," she said.

"…"

"Orihime-chan isn't cooking. We're going to see a movie and get dinner in Yagami. It'll be fun," she said.

"You just want to pester Kenji and Yakumo-san."

"Well, as long as we're going."

'Another day in the life of the love-hate relationship of Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia,' thought Ichigo sarcastically. 'We must really love each to survive all this.'

* * *

**1800 Hours; February 12****th****, 2012; Yagami JR East Terminal, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

An extremely beautiful young woman entered the busying city square as she exited the city's main train station. She treaded lightly since a few station workers were only just starting to lay salt on the ground. Others were clearing the sidewalks and a snowplow had left a huge mound in the square that children were running up and down.

The woman thought it was a little late to be playing here. She clutched at her coat and adjusted her scarf. She was tracking a lot of attention from various men because of her expensive clothing and the she was beautiful.

"Oi, over here!" called a second woman in a small pickup truck waiting by the curb.

The blonde woman smiled and approached the pickup. She put her bags in the back and the blue haired woman tied a tarp around them so they wouldn't get wet or blown away.

"Is this your truck, Mikoto?"

"Iē, this for my family. You know we do odd jobs around town."

"Well, I did work for you. Remember that Christmas four years back?"

"I remember trying to get you to admit you liked Kenji-kun," laughed Mikoto.

Sawachika Eri didn't laugh. She looked back at these memories somewhat fondly, but it did hurt to wonder 'what if I had swallowed my pride'. Of course she knew the answer because she had done so and asked out a Westerner from Berlin. She was aggressive and he was passive. She was rattled easily and he was extremely calm. It made for interesting compromises, which was a learning experience of its own for her.

"Why?"

"I think this is something you can take care of quietly. You don't like to lose ever, Eri."

Eri fidgeted with her watch for a little bit. "Yakumo and I don't talk much, but we are friends… kinda'. Besides, Harima-kun is only going to get himself into trouble with poor Yakumo-chan and I probably won't even be his fault."

"You'll do it?"

"Only if you answer me this," said Eri looked at Mikoto out of the corner of her eyes.

"Nani?"

"You called Akira first, didn't you?"

"But you're my best friend," said Mikoto with a big nervous grin. After the grin went away she asked, "What are you planning on doing?"

"Toughen up Yakumo-chan," said Eri brushing a piece of lint off her coat.

"Is that wise?" asked Mikoto who had thought that would be a mistake.

"She's a big girl now, Mikoto. Harima-kun is a big dumb well-meaning guy who is unfortunately easy to manipulate. Yakumo-chan is a quiet, talented, and sexy woman who lacks self-confidence and let's people walk all over her. She needs to be ably to protect and defend what's hers."

"Don't you think, Kenji-kun needs to learn how to recognize these situations?"

"We are talking about the same guy, ne? Harima Kenji? Do you really think we have that kind of time?" asked Eri with a raised eyebrow.

"Point taken."

"So since he's hopeless, it will be up to Yakumo. Or at least that's Plan A."

"What's Plan B?"

"You'll see."

* * *

Sorry this took so long, but I have a number of other things going on. I have to do everything now. Still I'm loving it here. My classes will start this Thursday so chapter four will take a while. In fact the pace at which I post chapters may be slowed down considerably at the worst case scenario. I don't intend to stop, but my classes come first.

I am really tired from a long list of things that I don't feel like writing. This chapter is full of mistakes, but I don't have time to fix them. It was quite an effort to finish this chapter.

Also this story that Emma is writing is going to continue to appear in future chapters as a story within a story. Why? I don't know, I thought it'd be fun.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. Cherbourg is a port in Normandy. During the Normandy Invasion the 4th Infantry Division and other units tried to take the port city because the Allies needed a deep water port to support the invasion. Unfortunately the fighting between German and American soldiers reduced the city to rumble and left the port unusable for months.

2. In the 1940s, nobody had planes powerful enough to lift heavy equipment. The British did have a specially made light tank that could fit in a glider and the American M5 Stewart was also small and light enough (it could even fit in a Higgins landing craft). Shermans had to be transported by sea or train. Same was true for the Cromwells, Churchills, Tigers, and T-34s.

3. The M3 Sherman was used by all of the Allied nations. It was very popular in the UK, despite its drawbacks.

4. There are many stories of Sherman tanks catching fire. Not the insides, but the actually armor. Hard to believe the country with the all-mighty M1A2 Abram used to rely on what was referred to a steel-coffin. The US Sherman did engage Soviet-made T-34s in battle during the Korean War. Since there were thousands of Shermans left from World War II, the US decided to use them or give them to the South Koreans.

5. Japanese-American successive generations are known as Issei (First-Generation), Nisei (Second-Generation), Sansei (Third-Generation), and Yonsei (Fourth-Generation). To the best of my knowledge the Gosei (Fifth-Generation) haven't been born yet. I would be a Sansei, my dad a Nisei, and my grandma an Issei.

6. Kamchatka Peninsula is a large long peninsula in eastern Russia that creates an inland sea. Some bases were built by the Red Navy for submarines and ships of their Pacific Fleet to shelter themselves. The Russians built a number of radar and SAM sites because USAF planes coming out of Alaska would have to pass Kamchatka or within operating distance for a number of fighter interceptors based in Kamchatka.

7. Leftenant is a Second Lieutenant in the British Army, Royal Air Force, and Royal Marines. The British do sometimes call it second lieutenant, but normally call if leftenant. I think the Australians also use the rank leftenant.

8. The Moaning Minnie is a nickname for the Nebelwerfer which is German for smoke launcher. It isn't a smoke launcher (but can be used for the purpose). It is a 150 mm mortar/rocket launcher known for the high-pitched moaning/screeching noise it made as its projectiles rained down on Allied and Soviet soldiers, hence the nickname 'Moaning'. The Germans under the Versailles Treaty wasn't allowed to build heavy artillery or mortars, but the treaty never mentioned rocket a launchers (which weren't popular during World War I) so the Hitler and the weapons manufacturers were able to get away with a weapon that was both deadly and terrifying. It has six barrels and could fire six shots before reloading. Due to the noise it made, the crew would often relocate before counter-artillery get zero in on them.

9. The British for a long time measured their artillery calibers in the weight of the projectile instead of the diameter of the barrel. This is traditional among navies because you need to know the weight of the projectile to know how much powder is used to fire it over a given distance, but for some reason the British choice to use this same process with their army. The 17-pounder is generally 76.2 mm (3-inch) gun. 2-pounder is 40 mm or 37 mm. 6-pounder is 57 mm. 25-pounder is 87.6 mm.


	4. Chapter 4: Enjoy Your Weekend

Well, I'm tired and busier than ever. I just don't have as much time as I would like to work on this, but I also want to do other things like hang out… or get actual school work done so I don't fail my classes.

Anyways, let's get started. Also keep in mine that the plot of the 1947 NATO-Soviet War is a side plot that might relate to the main story. It will appear every now and then. I hope I'm not confusing anyone, but let's not forget I'm writing this with what time I have and I'm a little tired.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Enjoy Your Weekend**

"We have nothing to fear, but fear itself."

32nd President of the United States Franklin Delano Roosevelt

**0830 Hours; February 13****th****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Tenma was happy and blissful person. She was free and spirited like she lived in her own little heaven.

Yakumo was quiet and graceful person. She moved with an elegance of white fluffy clouds drifting across the skies.

Of course, the first character in Tenma, 'Ten', meant Heaven. The second character in Yakumo, 'Kumo', meant Clouds. In a way, their names where appropriate.

… but that's beside the point.

Breakfast was a little later than most days, it was Saturday after all and no one had classes. Nothing was out of the ordinary except for one thing… or rather one person.

"Eri-chan, I can't believe you didn't tell me you were coming," squealed Tenma with delight.

"Calm down, Tenma. I didn't even know I was coming until Mikoto called me. She wanted me to help with the wedding planning," said Eri. This wasn't really a lie. Eri was going to help and it was related to the wedding… and now she had been roped in to help with the wedding too.

Last night Mikoto and Eri agreed that they needed Tsukino to plan the wedding… because every other wedding planner were all tied up with other weddings, but in the meantime they needed to keep some distance between her and Kenji. Kenji was oblivious, which worked both ways for the parties involved. He didn't know Tsukino was coming onto him so he was not in any risk of being… tempted... but it also meant he couldn't be on his guard. Sooner or later he would figure something out. Eri knew a time would come when the situation became so obvious that even people like Kenji and Tenma would 'see the light'.

Eri was currently in the middle of Phase 1 of Plan A. This involved getting Yakumo alone for a start.

"Yakumo-chan, we got a list of caterers from Tsukino-san and Mikoto would like me to help pick out one for them, but I don't know traditional Japanese foods like you do. Would you company me?" asked Eri.

"Um… I guess I can help," Yakumo said quietly.

'This girl is going to need all the help she can get,' thought Eri pityingly. Yakumo was more confident than once upon a time, but Eri doubted she was strong enough. Yakumo had only stood up to her because she had risked everything to confess to Kenji and wasn't about to give up… also a little resentment towards that fact that Eri was far more self-confident but refused to confess made her a little angry.

"Mou, don't you need me?" asked Tenma looking a little offended at Mikoto hadn't asked for her too.

"Don't worry Tenma-chan. I need you to track down Akira-chan and start a guest list for Tsukino-san."

Another important part was that it would be just Eri and Yakumo.

"I guess I'll head out now," said Kenji sitting up. He was supposed to meet with monk who ran Yagami Shrine.

Yakumo finished clearing the table and then headed upstairs for a coat. She returned with her brown wool winter coat and a light red wool cap.

Behind her was Mai dressed in a black ski cap and what looked like an army jacket. Eri hadn't planned on this, but it was too late and she couldn't think of a way to immediately get rid of the 12-year-old. Besides, what kind of person felt a girl home alone?

* * *

**2056 Hours; February 13****th****, 2012; Seattle University, Seattle; Washington State, United States of America**

A silver BMW pulled up in the student parking lot outside of one of the dorms. A man dressed in a black suit with a brown trench coat over it got out. He placed on a fedora hat that matched his coat.

"I thought you said I would have time to go home and change," said Jack. He had gone into the office today for an emergency briefing. He dressed like any government worker. Although he was in the military, he couldn't show up in his Army uniform at the CIFA regional office. It would make it obvious to their location and what kind of people were working there. The counter-intelligence community for their purposes depended on being invisible, even to their own side and especially the KGB and PLA Intelligence Service that sometimes used Seattle as a West Coast entry point.

He had tucked his ID badge in his shirt pocket. He didn't want to leave it in the car, nor his sidearm the H&K USP .45 compact.

Emma was dressed in a way that was both warm and fashionable and far more causal than Jack. She led the way up to the second floor common room and where the party was in progress.

Jack was somewhat relieved to see it wasn't some wild frat party, but the stares he was getting was making him self-conscious.

"Yo Emma, Jack. Glad you could make it," said William Lassiter, known as Billy and a cousin of Ginny. Billy was actually something of a military-enthusiast and was eager to meet Jack who normally avoided people. He and his friends were only more excited to see him dressed like he got out of some meeting with the CIA.

"Jack, I'm going to talk with my friends over there. Try to have some fun," Emma said in Japanese.

"Hai, Oka-san (mother)," said Jack dryly.

"So dude, what were you doing today?" asked Carl, one of Billy's friends.

"In a briefing," Jack said curtly taking a seat at a coffee table.

"With the CIA?"

"I do not work for Central Intelligence Agency."

"Right, you wouldn't tell us if you did?" asked Leo, another of Billy's friends.

"No I really don't. There are 16 intelligence services in the United States and the CIA is only one of them."

"Guys, he isn't going to say. So is there anything you can tell us?" asked Billy.

"Sure, but not about the meeting."

There was silence for a while and then.

"Do you know why the Army reintroduced the Patton (1)?" asked Carl.

Jack nodded. It was something he could answer. "We had a lot of problems in Iraq and Afghanistan with the Abrams. While they were great tanks, they were meant to engage Soviet armor in open tank battles like any heavy tank and poorly suited for battle against infantry in limited maneuvering space like cities."

The three men were staring at Jack opened mouth and occasionally taking a sip of beer or a bite of chips like Jack was some intensely interesting movie. They were nodding with each statement and sometimes said 'uh-huh'.

"The Abrams could take RGPs and IEDs (improvised explosive device), but over time they wore down the tank. They're expensive to field and repair, not to mention difficult to transport because of their weight. You know the Russian tanks are all under 50 tons? While the Patton is about 50 tons, they are cheaper to field and service than the Abrams. They're a little smaller than the Abrams. Now in the Korean War, I saw them take on Chinese tanks on the Korean mainland and in the hands of trained crew they can hold their own against heavy armor. In Japan, where a lot of the fighting was conducting in urban zones, the Pattons were able to move faster and generally easier to repair because they used cheaper parts that didn't have to be special ordered from the US or Germany. Also their lighter weight means for the Marine Corps that they don't slow down landing craft as much and could be transported in larger quantities by aircraft."

"So is it going to replace the Abrams?" asked Leo.

"Hell no," laughed Jack. That took a few people by surprise since they never heard him laugh. "The Abram is our main battle tank to engage Soviet armor and motor-rifles."

"Hey, I heard there is a way to drop tanks from planes via parachutes," said Carl.

"Yeah. We have a system that uses GPS to guide tri-chutes to a precise location by adjusting flaps like an airplane. The problem is it's expensive and takes an hour to pack up, this ain't a system you abandon. It also is only good for supplies, towed-artillery, infantry fighting vehicles, trucks, HMMWVs, and armor personnel carriers. Last I heard a small company near here is working on a more powerful system that we can abandon in the field."

Jack didn't mention the Soviets new chute or some of the others countries working on their own. That had been the subject of the meeting. A group of field agents from the Naichō and Military Intelligence Command, and other Japanese intelligence services, reported to Tokyo their observations of the Soviets latest test. The next stage would probably be to make final adjustments and try it again with expendable equipment. The Soviet were trying the chutes with T-55s which were outdated and similar in weight to most of the Soviet's tanks. There was little in different of weight between the T-54, T-55, T-62, and T-72, and even the new T-90 was barely a few tons heaver than the T-55. The entire US Armed Forces were discussing the test because it would ultimately change the plans of defense of the United States and could change the face of the Cold War.

"_Gentlemen and Ladies. I trust you all understand that the Soviets invasion plans of the United States were highly flawed in the past because it depends on a navy they don't have," said Jack before his task leaders and his regional COs. "Although we all know the Soviets are expanding their fleets and working on their first super carrier, this new parachutes could means the Red Air Force can parachute in an invasion force to secure ports for the main body. Soviet tanks are all under 50 tons and it could mean they can drop virtually anything they make. I'm sure we all know what the Soviet Airborne Troops are like and their duties in the Red Army."_

It had been decided that America was now vulnerable to a real invasion. Movies like Red Dawn or games like Red Alert 2 had been fun, but flawed. The Soviet could easily land paratroopers on American soil, but they didn't have the navy to support or sustain them. The Red Navy just wasn't that large for the scale of the invasion force they would need for a sustained invasion and simultaneously fight the US Navy. But the Soviet had highly trained paratroopers that operated as a rough equivalent of the USMC. They were light assault infantry trained to secure areas ahead of the main army who would then continue the fighting and supposedly win.

"So are the Russians or Chinese working on it?"

"China saw how badly an amphibious invasion went for them. They, like the Soviets, think this would be a better alternative. The problem is the Chinese don't have a lot of heavy transport planes. They move most of their heavy equipment by road or rail unlike the Soviet who need the planes to transport vehicles from one side of their country to the other."

Jack knew China was working on it with an intensity not seen in most of their military projects. This was more than just a little disconcerting to NATO, South Korea, and Taiwan. The only comfort was that the People's Liberation Army Ground Force was not yet ready for war and the People's Liberation Army Air Force hadn't recovered from the Korean War. Also the People's Liberations Army Navy would just barely be able to defend China's shores.

From the other side of the room, Emma kept glancing over towards her fiancée with a worried expression. He seemed to be doing okay and decided to let him be.

Virginia Lassiter, Emma's best friend, felt her phone vibrate.

"Hello? … what… what… what the fuck?" she asked sounding more and more shocked and distressed by the second. She hung up looking shocked and headed to her cousin.

"Billy, your brother…"

"Oh god," said Billy seeing the how pale Ginny was.

"… he…"

"It's going to be okay man," said Carl patting Billy on the shoulder.

"… was arrested by the English. They say he is a terrorist."

While it was a relief to Billy to find out his brother wasn't dead, it was shocking to find out he was under arrest.

"Yo, Jack, can't you do anything?" asked Leo. They all looked at him.

"No," said Jack flatly.

"Come on, surely you can-"

"No I can't," he said.

"Just a moment," said Emma pulling Jack to a corner.

"Jack-"

"No. I can't help," said Jack now sounding annoyed.

"But why not?"

Jack settled a look on her. "What do you think I do?"

Emma didn't really know. "Thing to do with spies?"

"And do you think that includes CT?"

"…"

"Counter-Terrorism. It doesn't. In the intelligence community there are CTs, field operators, analysts, special action groups, and CIs. CTs mostly work with domestic security or domestic intelligence or the rest of the counter-terrorist units and anti-organize crime groups. They don't work with military intelligence departments or foreign relations intelligence directorate often. Are only connect is that we both make use of special action groups and field operators of the different sectors across paths."

"But you know people in the UK?"

"Sure, I know people in the SIS and SAS, but not many in the CT wing."

Emma looked at Jack.

"Can you look at it, please?"

Jack sighed. He already knew it would be a waste of time. The British were professionals. They weren't going to arrest a citizen of United States, the UK's closest ally, for no reason.

'But why arrest him at all?'

"There will probably be nothing I can do. He's in the hands of another country and the US won't want to help a suspected terrorist. All I can promise is getting a vague idea of why."

* * *

**1000 Hours; February 14****th****, 2012; Downtown, Seattle; Washington State, United States of America**

Jack emerged from the Central Link station, the commuter light rail that serviced the Seattle-Tacoma region. A few workers were shoveling snow off the sidewalks and laying salt down, but their work seemed in vain since it was still snowing.

Jack entered a normal looking office building and proceeded inside. He headed up an elevator and exited on one of the upper floors. He flashed his badge and walked into a secure area. He had to remove his trench coat and blazer to be searched by the security guards.

"May I enquire on your business, sir?" asked one of the guards. The guard knew not to ever address the agents by name or rank.

"Personal," Jack said curtly.

Jack was allowed to keep his sidearm, something most agents weren't allowed to do, but Jack was a highly senior agent.

He knocked on a door marked "RDoO" which meant Regional Director of Operations.

"Enter."

"Director Eck, are you busy?"

Regional Director Daniel Eck was in charge of the Counter Intelligence Field Activity's agents and operators stationed in the Northwest. Jack was usually deployed to other offices, but was under Eck's jurisdiction. Dr. Gibbs was Jack's handler, but he was at the Central Office in Washington.

"Special Agent Shinhachi, you don't normally come in. What do I owe the pleasure?" he asked in a monotone.

"The SIS arrested a man named Sean Lassiter. He is related to a personal friend. May I inquire why he was arrested?" asked Jack in a monotone. Agents like them never spoke with much emotion, it was considered professional by them.

"That is highly unprofessional of you, Agent Shinhachi. You should know better."

"I don't intend to accomplish anything."

Director Eck assessed Jack for a while.

"GSG-9 arrested a group of arms dealers back in October. They got a client list out of them and one of the groups of a new break away group from the IRA, one called the Irish People's Liberation Army. About four days ago the British made their move and rounded up the members as they left their safe house. Their objective was to try and ambush members of the British government while at the second round of the Soviet-US hockey game."

Jack was handed a file from a drawer and flipped through it. The men were arrested with guns and a plan of attack. A second team was arrest from a different safehouse with a sniper rifle. A third from yet another safehouse was arrested with bomb making materials. He knew there was no hope of helping this man. He was guilty as sin.

"There's more. Actually something you might be able to help with. Lassiter knew of a Serbian group planning on attacking the Kosovar diplomats. Some of these guys are ex-spies. The FBI would like anything you can provide on these men," said Eck handing Jack a couple of files. "I expect it by Monday."

'Great, 24 hours to complete this file.'

Later that evening Jack knew that Sean Lassiter's situation was hopeless. Hell, Jack thought he was lucky the SIS picked him up. The SAS would have killed him. If they had arrived in the US they would have been slaughtered by any number of special action groups like SEALs or Delta Force.

He looked at a picture of Viktor Pretrović. He knew he was a former member of the Bezbednosno Informativna Agencija (Security Information Agency) and he worked in the Pristina. He was fired after his failure to prevent the Albanians uprisings in Kosovo and his failure in undermining NATO's invasion of Kosovo. Since the 90s he'd been working with various Serb groups trying to stir up civil uprisings among the Serb-Kosovars. The problem was that the Albanian-Kosovars made up 90-percent of the country. The military intelligence wings had closed his file because he hadn't been of much danger.

Jack sighed. This was a colossal waste of his time. Pretrović had worked for BIA years before Jack was brought into the Activity. He had to review all the files on the known KGB agents arriving in Washington with the Soviet entourage. Then he had to write up a report on the new Soviet parachute program for Joint Task Force Compass Rose because all the Europeans needed to know how this would affect their national defense… and Jack was supposed to be the Compass Rose's intelligence chief.

The UK was just as worried as the US because now the Soviets could land a very real invasion force on their soil. Germany was worried that the Soviets could bypass the Iron Curtain that separated East and West by landing troops in Denmark or Austria where the Germans could be vulnerable.

Jack leaned back in his chair. Emma wasn't here. He wasn't sure how to explain the situation without compromising the investigation.

Some days he hated his job.

He thought of all the people he had killed or ordered to be killed.

Some people became spies to learn things, to service their country, or because they thought it was fun and exciting.

People became counter-intelligence operators because they wanted to protect from spies and traitors.

* * *

**1012 Hours; February 13****th****, 2012; Business District, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Eri knew her plans had to change. Mai was someone she hardly knew, but Eri knew she was highly intelligent and aware of her surroundings. In a way Mai reminded Eri of herself, she was smart, cunning, athletic, and most of all she was a foreigner in this country. Mai wasn't even Japanese, but she was Asian. Eri was half-Japanese, but didn't looked Asian. This made similar situations for them.

It occurred to Eri that Mai could be useful.

"Mai-chan?"

"Hai, Sawachika-sempai?"

"You know your brother isn't a smart man, ne?" started Eri wondering if she should have rephrased that.

"He means well," said Mai a little defensively.

"Of course he does, but he doesn't always see… threats," she said carefully.

"Nani?" asked Mai looking perplexed. Her green eyes were searching Eri for an answer to the statement.

"You know this Tsukino Rie?"

"Iē, but Onii-chan says she's enthusiastic," said Mai.

"Baka," sighed Eri. "He can be so blind."

"To what?" asked Mai who still didn't get it.

"Tsukino-san is trying to steal Harima-kun from Yakumo-chan," said Eri flat out.

Mai's eyes widened in anger. She wasn't sure what to do, but she was frightened. Her world had settled into peace and now something… someone was threatening to destroy that. What scared he was she didn't know how to fight this.

"What do we do?"

Eri placed a friendly hand on Mai's shoulder and said, "I want you to go with Harima-kun next time and observe him. My guess is he hasn't notice anything yet and we can make this work to our advantage. I'm going to toughen up our dear friend in the meantime."

"Wakarimasu (I understand)," said Mai.

"Ii desu (good)," said Eri patting her on the head. Both repositioned themselves as Yakumo returned to the bench they were sitting on.

"How did it go?" asked Eri.

"Okay, but I think we should look at a few other places," said Yakumo tucking a pamphlet in her shoulder bag.

"Sounds good to me," said Eri. She would bring Yakumo up to speed later. She wasn't sure how Yakumo would take it and thought this news would be best delivered in privacy.

The three of them walked down the street. The streets were decorated for Valentine's Day, which was tomorrow. Valentine's Day in Japan was a little different from the West. In Japan only the women gave gifts and it was normally chocolate. A month later on March 14th the men returned the favor on what was known as White Day.

Mai paused in front of a store selling chocolate bars and kits to make homemade chocolate. She recalled a male friend who had been very kind to her over the past year.

"Sawachika-sempai, Yakumo-sempai, do you mind if I buy something for a friend?"

Eri gave her a little push towards the door. "Go on."

Mai went inside.

"Is there someone she likes?" asked Eri.

"I don't think she's reached that stage yet. She's curious about… changes in her… body," said Yakumo. She found puberty awkward to talk about. "I think it's just for a friend."

* * *

**1449 Hours; February 14****th****, 2012; Council of Ministers Building, Moscow; Moscow Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic**

Minister of Oil and Natural Gas, also known as the Ministry of Natural Resources, Iosef Filipovich Chekotropev was drinking a cup of coffee mixed with vodka. Being in charge of oil and natural gas and the Rodina's numerous natural resources didn't sound exciting but oil and gas were the USSR's biggest export to the West and of extreme importance of to the Ministries of Transportation, Defense, Agriculture, and Interior.

Chekotropev was a large portly man with a round face and wispy light brown hair that was falling out.

"Comrade Minister Chekotropev," called out a voice.

"Ah, Comrade Minister Nevsky," said Chekotropev in a less-than-enthusiastic tone. He was scared of the head of the KGB like most Russians and other Soviets. "Can I help you?"

"Perhaps. How is this year's fuel production looking?"

"Uh, Comrade Minster State Security it is far too early to know that. It is only mid-February. It does not look bad. I am diverting current production to the Ministry of Agriculture for the spring planting and I'm starting to prepare fuel for the Armed Force's spring training cycles," said Chekotropev. During this time of year the Red Armed Forces weren't too active. Most fuel went to the Minister of Transportation or Minister of Interior for trains or power plants between the months of December-February.

"Iosef Filipovich, suppose we need the fuel reserves for an emergency, how prepared are your people?"

"I'm afraid I would need more detail, Comrade Minister State Security," said Chekotropev. He was starting to sweat.

"Just a general figure," said Nevsky with a shrugged and a slight smile that made Chekotropev wished there was someone else here. As if on cue, a junior lieutenant appeared pushing a cart.

With blank eyes he held up a pot of coffee.

"Da, I would like another cup Comrade Lieutenant," said Chekotropev. "Um, for something like an earthquake we have sufficient fuel reserves to mobilize relief personnel. If something went wrong with one of our refineries we could use what refineries we have and the reserves for about a year for normal operations but not an emergency or wartime operations. I think we can sustain the current operations in Chechnya without problems. A full scale war with China, Afghanistan, or maybe the Arab nations we'd be fine. Against NATO I think we could sustain a full scale war with proper notice. I would need to prepare reserves ahead of time and I doubt I could do anything if two or three of these happened at once."

Chekotropev finished and looked at Nevsky who smiled pleasantly in a way only the KGB could do and it did not make the Minister of Natural Resources better.

"Spa-see-ba, Iosef Filipovich. I hope I can count on you in the future. It would be most beneficial for the Rodina," said Nevsky smiling widely.

"Of course Comrade Minister Nevsky," said Chekotropev who was so terrified his voice cracked in mid-sentence and was reduced to a squeak.

The lieutenant junior offered coffee to the Minister of the Committee of State Security who refused.

"Nyet, Comrade Lieutenant Junior. I was just leaving."

The lieutenant junior nodded and silently walked away.

* * *

**0900 Hours; February 14****th****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Mai had finished making the chocolate bar. Mai's actual family had run a restaurant in Pusan and she had learned to cook a while ago.

She was wrapping it up while behind her Tenma was making curry under the careful eye of Yakumo who had a fire extinguisher and first aid kit nearby. Admittedly, curry was not a normal gift for Valentine's Day in any culture or country that celebrated or observed the holiday, but considering who it was for it made perfect sense.

"Nee-san, you should turn down the heat a little or it will burn," warned Yakumo.

"Tenma-sempai, Yakumo-sempai. I'm heading out now. I'll be back by noon," called Mai grabbing her army-style jacket.

It was snowing and the weather report threatened that it would get worse by the evening. The jacket was warm and it was made of synthetics materials that were water/wind proof. She adjusted the handmade scarf that Yakumo made her and proceeded down the street to the commuter rail station.

It was 8 blocks before she reached the small Sagenji Station. Mai tapped her commuter pass on a pad at the gates which retracted its metal arms to allow her passage. She took a seat on a bench while she waited for a south bound train. The only people there were two men waiting for a north bound train, an old woman waiting for a south bound, and a guard (conductor).

15 cold minutes later a 6-car train rolled into the station. One person got out and Mai stepped into the warm car gratefully. The warning tone beeped and the doors closed.

Mai reached the downtown area and switched to an east bound train on a different line. Here it was more crowded and Mai was forced to stand.

She finally reached a small station not too different from the one she left. Mai couldn't help, but noticed how many Japanese neighborhoods looked the same with similar two-story single family homes with a concrete wall around them. Of course each home was a little different which was better than those tasteless planned communities that were so popular in America.

She found the address she was looking for, a single-story residence that was a little smaller than the other homes. The front gate was open and she approached the door. Mai rung the bell and waited.

"Hai (2)!" called a woman from deep within the house. There were footsteps and the door opened.

"Hai?" asked a thin woman with green hair and a friendly smile. She also had a braid held by a gold band.

"Ohayo, Ichijou-sempai," said Mai bowing in greeting to Ichijou Karen. "Is Ichijou-kun home?"

"Hai, won't you come in?" asked Karen stepping aside for Mai.

"Arigato. Shitsurei shimasu (3)," said Mai entering the front hall and removing her coat, scarf, and shoes.

"Kosuke-kun, a friend of yours is here!" called Karen heading to the room she shared with her little brother.

"Hai," said Kosuke from their bedroom.

He entered the living room and froze. Whoever he was expecting it wasn't a girl, let alone the one he had a crush on who was sitting quietly at the coffee table on a cushion.

"Ohayo, Ichijou-kun," said Mai pleasantly.

"O-o-ohayo," stuttered Kosuke taking a seat across from Mai.

"Dōzō," said Mai passing the small packet across the table.

"Uh… arigato… gozaimasu," mumbled Kosuke accepting the packet. His face was turning red as it occurred to him what this must be.

"I hope you like it. It was a recipe my mother once taught me… my real mother. I just wanted to thank you for being my friend. I know most people here don't like foreigners that much, but you've never treated me like I didn't belong," said Mai. "In fact I like to show you more of where I came from… you that's okay with you?"

"… uh… hai!" Kosuke practically screamed in his desperate attempt to regain his ability to speak. "I-I would love to learn more a-about Korea and y-y-you."

From the hall, Karen silently silenced to her brother stuttered and squeak. She tried not to giggle. He was really trying hard. Karen decided to let her brother have some privacy.

"I need to leave now, but I'll see you at school, Ichijou-kun," said Mai.

'What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?' wondered Kosuke desperately. "Uh… you don't h-have to be s-so formal with me."

It was the only thing he could think of and he wondered how stupid it sounded.

"Really? Okay, you can call me by my given name," said Mai heading to the hall.

She put on her shoes, wrapped the scarf around her neck, and got in her coat. "Mata, Kosuke-kun."

"Jā mata, Mai-san," said Kosuke somewhat stunned. Once she was gone he inwardly cheered at the top of his lungs.

* * *

**1200 Hours; February 14****th****, 2012; residential district, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

A woman with dark purple hair and sharp violet eyes approached three-story apartment building. She noticed one car had a sticker decal on the trunk. It was a white fox curled up protectively of a rough outline of the four main islands of Japan and in black letters: 201st Fighter Squadron.

She knew she had the right address. She headed up a set of stairs to the second floor and along the walkway to apartment #204.

The name plate read: Nara.

She rang the doorbell.

"Hai," called a sleepy voice.

A man with blue hair answered the door in a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.

"Kentaro-kun, isn't it a little too late to be asleep?" asked Takano Akira.

"I've been doing night flying at the academy. Where have you been Akira-chan?" asked Kentaro letting Akira inside his apartment.

"Places," said Akira curtly. Kentaro had come to accept his girlfriend was in covert warfare and wasn't allowed to share what she did.

"You here for the wedding?"

"I actually was here to just say hi to you. I need to be in Tokyo by tomorrow morning, but I'll be back for the wedding though," said Akira. She was going to brief the chiefs of operations about what she had witnessed.

"So, did you want to get something to eat?" he asked.

"Iē, but I have a Valentine present."

"Chocolate?" asked Kentaro hopefully.

Akira only smiled slightly and led Kentaro by the hand to his bedroom.

* * *

**2100 Hours; February 15****th****, 2012; conference room, Federal Bureau of Investigation J. Edgar Hoover Building; Washington DC, United States of America**

The J. Edgar Hoover Building was a large building in downtown Washington and was headquarters to the FBI. The Federal Bureau of Investigation was the US's federal law enforcement agency that handled cases and solved crimes like any state or county law enforcement department. The FBI however dealt with cases that crossed multiple state borders, areas of inter-state or international commerce, or crimes committed on federal grounds.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, we got this from the Defense Department about some of guys were looking at. Most of them were ex-members of the BIA, a Serbian intelligence service. They were all stationed in Kosovo and were fired because Kosovo was removed from Serbian sovereignty by the NATO and placed under care of the United Nations," said an agent.

"Why hasn't the DoD mentioned these men before?" asked a woman.

"The files were in the hands of their counter-intelligence wings who closed their files years ago. They didn't think they were anything more than a minor nuisance. I'm sure we all know the military thinks this is our problem."

Several section chiefs nodded. Like in the USSR, there was a rivalry between the government and military intelligence services. Unlike in the Soviet Union, American intelligence were more tamed and kept out of each others' way. They were also subject to federal laws and were kept in constant check. The KGB had the power to intimidate the Soviet government, but the FBI was constantly reminded they worked for the federal government.

"The author of this report is classified but I was assured it was legit by the Assistant Secretary of Defense. It states these men will target Kosovar government officials and try to destabilize Kosovo by any means. It states although they aren't the most dangerous men in the world, but the will kill anyone in the way and aren't afraid of collateral damage."

"So we need to beef up security around the Kosovars?" asked a man.

"That's correct, sir," nodded the agent.

"We may not be able to cover it all," said another man.

"We'll have to make do," said Director Franklin McLean. He was a tall black man with a shaved head. He was 55-years-old and had worked for the FBI for 24 years before being named Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. "We'll have to trust the Kosovar security staff to do most of the work and have a normal size detail to protect their people. We'll have to put the rest on Homeland Security."

There was a collective groan from the staff.

"I know, but we can't do it all," stated McLean.

"The Secret Service will have to be in on this too," said one of the section chiefs.

"Naturally. Will, bring them up to speed and Beth you brief DoHS (Department of Homeland Security)," ordered McLean. "As Director, I'll call the State Department and set up a meeting with the Kosovars."

The meeting was adjourned and the chiefs went about their business. They had only a matter of hours to prepare everything, but an event this big would mean someone in charge would always be awake and near a phone.

No one mentioned the CIA because they technically weren't allowed to conduct operations in the United States. The DIA and NSA and similar agencies weren't mentioned because this wasn't a military matter and so the US Armed Forces and Department of Defense weren't supposed to be too involved. Of course that didn't mean they weren't working behind the scenes.

* * *

**2010 Hours; February 15****th****, 2012; Holiday Inn, Arlington County; Commonwealth of Virginia, United States of America**

"Yes, all preparations are made," said a Slavic man sitting alone in a hotel room. He spoke in English as to hide his true language in case someone was listening.

"Good, well I hope your meeting goes well. I wish you the best," said a man on the other end of the line.

Viktor Pretrović hung up the phone and opened up a large computer case. Inside was a computer. Inside another compartment was a Mini Uzi. It was 110 mm shorter than the standard Uzi, but 110 mm longer than the Micro Uzi. The Mini Uzi had an effective range of 100 m which was not very impressive but a step up from the Micro Uzi's 30 m effective range.

Pretrović like any real soldier would have preferred something more substantial than the Uzi like a Kalashnikov or an H&K, but the Uzis were light, easy to conceal, and so common and made in so many countries that they were hard to trace. Still the Americans were good at finding the origins of weapons. That had been a challenge for Pretrović and his team. Western police were not good at finding crimes before they happened, but were very good at solving them once they had a trail. The trick was to remain undetected as long as possible and then escape immediately. He knew some people liked to watch their handy work afterwards and were captured or killed for their arrogance.

The Uzi was incase something went wrong and he needed an automatic weapon. A suppressed revolver was his choice weapon for the job. Revolvers were ideal weapons for assassinations because they were powerful, accurate, and reliable. Although semi-automatic and automatic handguns had larger clip capacities and could be loaded faster, a revolver didn't eject shell casings that law enforcement could trace. This was common knowledge to any lowly hitman that real soldiers and covert warriors looked down upon as uncivilized scum and thugs.

That or those pathetic 'gangsta' rap culture that was developing in America for decades. He watched these teenagers walk around in baggy clothing and trying to not to look suspicious. If this were his homeland they would show them what 'mean' really was and what the ghetto really was. These pigs grew up much better than him. When he their age he would get a few meals a week and would wonder if the West was going to invade and nuke his country into oblivion.

As he exited the hotel and headed down the street to a bar he saw early he encountered these teens in an alley.

The first thing he noticed was they were all white which was considered pathetic even by most Americans. Next he saw a couple were concealing weapons in their waistbands.

"Yo Homes, give me your money," ordered one man who was wearing so much fake gold jewelry Pretrović was impressed he could stand.

"Make me," said Pretrović.

"Yo, Tiny, show him," ordered the leader. Pretrović wondered if they ever said anything without saying 'yo'. Tiny lifted his several layers of clothing to reveal a small .22 semi-auto handgun that was smaller than the man's hand.

Pretrović knew this man would have a hard time drawing out the gun because of all the layers of clothing he was wearing as oppose to the hostler inside his jacket.

Another man drew out an M92, but held it in the 90-degree flip. For some reason these punks thought you were supposed to hold a gun to the side, but real soldiers knew you couldn't aim that way or fire accurately. The only reason a real soldier would do it was it he/she was firing around a corner blind or while doing an evasive maneuver, neither of which was a good idea. Guns were dangerous and needed to be handled wisely. Pretrović knew the American cover operators and counter-intelligence officers had a saying: Guns make people stupid.

Pretrović walked towards them. He placed his right fist into his left hand and his it for leverage as he sent his right elbow into the Tiny's jaw. A crack told him he broke it. He then clasped both together and sent it into the other gunman's stomach winding him. He carefully grabbed his gun hand and removed the trigger finger gently so as to not cause the gun to go off accidentally. With a twist he broke the finger. He grabbed the gun and removed the slid-bolt making it so someone couldn't immediately use it.

"Whose next," he asked after leaving the others on the ground.

A third man approached him waving his arms around threateningly. "You want a piece of this homey, do ya'?"

While he was busying acting tough, Pretrović grabbed his face and said in a quiet but clearly deadly tone, "All I have to do is a simple jerk to the side and I snap the neck and you are dead. Understand, homey?"

The teen looked like he had wet himself and Pretrović released him leaving him on the ground.

"Yo!" said the leader making a dive for the 22.

Pretrović reached into his jacket and drew out a .45 caliber Remington double-action revolver. The leader slowly back away from the gun.

"Where I come from, you would all be dead in minutes," said Pretrović walking away and leaving the teens. They would never call the police because it would be awfully hard to explain how they were injured or what they did to get injured and police wouldn't be too trusting of them anyways.

It was so nice to blow off some pre-mission stress and practice some Combat Sambo. It was something he learned while visiting the Soviet Union and he took a few classes with the KGB.

Tomorrow he would make up for his past failures. For the glory of Tito and a united Balkans.

* * *

**0900 Hours; February 14****th****, 2012; Matsuri Restaurant, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Asou Hiroyoshi could think of a number of things he would prefer to be doing on a Sunday morning, like sleeping in or maybe studying for the end of third semester/academic year this April.

"Ohayo, Nii-san," said Asou Yuuya, Hiroyoshi's little brother. He was pulling on a coat as he stumbled for the door. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I need to be in Ikebukuro by 10:30 or Mami-chan will kill me."

Hiroyoshi grunted in acknowledgement as his brother ran out his back door, down the metal stairs, and into the alley behind the Matsuri. Hiroyoshi since his 3rd year in high school had lived in the space above the restaurant.

"Well, I might as well as get going," he sighed as he grabbed a winter coat.

He walked past his car and made a mental note to dig it out from underneath several centimeters of snow.

20 minutes later he reached a Western-style stone church. This was something of a tourist attraction since there weren't many of these buildings in area… or the prefecture for that matter. Only 2-percent of Japan was actually practicing Christians.

"You could pretend you were excited," chided a young blonde woman who approached Hiroyoshi from behind.

"Gomen," he grunted.

Morning mass was a routine for the Catholics. Hiroyoshi couldn't help but shake the feeling he didn't belong. He was not a Catholic or a Christian.

They read from a hymn books. These texts were extremely alien to him.

This was not part of his people. He looked to his right.

Sarah Adiemus sat quite serenely. It was part of her people.

And Sarah was part of his life.

This was part of a relationship, compromising.

* * *

**0917 Hours; December 7****th****, 1947; Unterschleissheim, 15 km north of Munich; Bavaria Staat, Federal Republic of Germany**

Sergeant Bryan Robertson of the 40th Rifle Battalion was surveying the land before him. A major highway from the Czechoslovakian border to Munich passed right through the small city of Unterschleissheim. For the Soviets and Yugoslavians, this would be the most appealing place to attack Munich.

Only one battalion of infantry and the broken remains of a Canadian armor company were between the Soviet's force and one American division and the remains of a British division.

Of course, that wasn't counting the Germans.

"Put that MG-42 on that hill," ordered a German hauptmann.

"Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann," nodded a feldweber (sergeant).

They had at least a battalion of infantry armed with rifles and sub-machine guns.

They had a nice view of the highway on their right. They were on the edge of a clearing in the trees. About 200 m away was where the Soviets would probably have to approach from. Anyone who did would encounter a Royal Army 17-pounder AT gun and two Flak 36 AA guns. To the rear was a battery of 25-pounder field guns.

The Canadians had two Cromwell tanks and three Sherman tanks being held in reserve in town.

"The fog is really ruining visibility, Leftenant," said Sergeant Robertson.

"We'll make do," said Leftenant Isaac Hooke. "Where's B-Coy?"

"They're on the road, sir. Jerry's companies are dug in and seem to be ready," said Robertson.

"Do they have a plan?" asked Hooke.

"Do we? …… sir," he added afterwards.

"Not really, Sergeant. Just slow down Ivan for a while and pray to god we don't get overrun like the Canadians."

"Those poor blighters," said Robertson shaking his head. "Well, I'll get my wankers in line and ready for battle, sir."

"Brilliant," said Hooke.

The fog that was not uncommon during winter be made visibility poor. They could see vehicles coming from halfway across the clearing, but infantry would be able to get much closer. While most Russians carried rifles, a number of them carried PPSh-41 and PPh-43 sub-machine guns.

"Leutenant (lieutenant/leftenant)," said the German captain approaching Hooke. "Where is Hauptmann (Captain) Whitney?"

"My company commander is busy at the moment, but perhaps I can be of service, sir," said Hooke. It had taken some getting use to calling a former enemy 'sir', but the Germans had been undeniably helpful.

"Mien (my) scouts have reported seeing Russian advance units," said the German officer. "Bitte (please), inform your kompanie (company) kommandeur that the main body is likely coming."

"I understand, sir," said Hooke. "Robertson, make sure those Vickers and PIATs (Projector Infantry Anti-Tank) are at the ready."

"Sir!" said Robertson saluting and running to his squad.

The Vickers machine gun was not an easy gun to move around. The Germans MG-34 and MG-42, or the American M1919A4, at the least needed two men. One to carry the gun and one to carry the tripod. A Vickers needed six to eight people because it was a water-cooled gun and needed men to carry the cooling system. The biggest advantage was that the Vickers could fire continuously without stopping or fear of over heating. There were records of Vickers' crew firing hours and only stopping to reload. They made ideal defensive weapons.

The PIAT was a strange anti-tank weapon. It was not an anti-tank rocket launcher like the American M9 Bazooka or the German RPzB Panzerschreck. It was really more like a rocket-propelled grenade (PRG). It was a little slow in loading and had to be fired at an angle because it wasn't a high velocity weapon. It was however quiet, smokeless, and had no backblast. This made it a difficult weapon for the enemy to spot even after it was fired and could be fired in an enclosed space.

"Jerry says Ivan is coming, let's show these commie wankers what Her Majesty's soldiers are made of. For England gents!" shouted Sergeant Robertson.

"Oi!"

"And Scotland," added Robertson grinning apologetically to the Scotsmen in his squad. Robertson put on the odd flat wide brim helmet unique to the British Army. It looked a little like a sun hat, but was made of steel and had webbing on it so a soldier could attach foliage for camouflage. It made the British the most easily recognizable soldiers on the battlefield. German helmets too were unique with the low angle brim, but not like the British. American and Soviet helmets from a distance looked similar.

Next, Robertson picked up his Sten Mk. II sub-machine gun. It fired 32 9x19 mm rounds from a magazine. It was made entirely of steel or metal, making it cheap, light, and easy to make. In fact someone with limited metal skills could build they own and many resistance fighters had. The beauty was that the German MP-40 and less common MP-38 fired the same cartridges so if a person with the Sten ran out of ammo he could take it from a German soldier, and many Germans carried SMGs. The most unique feature of the Sten was that the clip stuck out of the left side of the gun instead of bottom like nearly every gun made. Many soldiers like to use the clip as a handle to grip the gun with.

They climbed into their slit trenches and waited for the oncoming enemy.

In the distance they started to see the faint outlines of soldiers. They were spread out with their weapons at their soldiers. As far as anyone could tell there was only a squad.

"Don't shoot," ordered one of the German officers quietly. The others passed it up and down the line.

From their experience at fighting the Red Army, the Germans knew their weaknesses. Soviet soldiers were poorly armed for their style of warfare. The Red Army liked to attack in waves and press close quarters with the enemy.

The Germans liked this tactic too, but they were better armed for it.

The Russians normally carried bolt-action rifles like the Mosin-Nagant. Bolt-action rifles were one of the worst weapons to carry in close combat battles. The sub-machine gun was the ideal choose, but the PPSh-41 the Soviets used was generally inferior to its Western counterparts. Their hand grenades were also unreliable and sometimes detonated too soon.

The Germans were mostly geared towards assault and were well trained at it.

Another thing the Germans knew was to kill the Commissars. These men wore brown uniforms the made them a little easy to spot than the normal grassy-green the regular soldiers and conscripts wore. They were political officers that worked for the Communist Party of the USSR. They're job was to instill Party Doctrine into soldiers and make sure military officers were producing results that pleased the Politburo.

The Commissars, although not known at the time, would be replaced by the Third Directorate of the KGB. Although the name would change, there job wouldn't and they would have a covertly hostile relationship with the armed forces who mutually hated them back.

A German sniper noticed a man that was only carrying a pistol. This was odd since the other men had rifles. He knew it had to be an officer or commissar. Either one was priority target for him.

The British and German soldiers were starting to wonder how close they were supposed to let the Soviets get.

Once the Soviets were within 50 m of them, they paused. Perhaps they felt something was wrong or suspected a trap.

The man carrying the pistol pulled out something, which to the sniper, appeared to be a map. The sniper decided he was an officer since a commissar's job wasn't leading a unit, it was 'motivating' it. He remembered the Commissars shooting their own soldiers for retreating. Vaguely, the sniper wondered who killed more Russians, the Germans or Commissars.

**Bang**!

The shot made everyone jump.

Everyone recognized it as a British .303 cal, but they didn't know who. The German sniper cursed because the officer had dropped to the ground and he lost sight of him. The Soviets started shooting back wildly in every direction. Because they only had rifles, there wasn't a large volume of fire.

Deciding to take matters into his own hands, the sniper fired a shot into the head of the officer.

There was a faint mist of red and grey pieces as the 7.92x57 mm struck the officer in the side of the head.

'Auf wiedersehen,' thought the sniper.

The Russians, unlike Western armies, didn't rely on non-commissioned officers to lead them. Low ranking officers in the Red Army did most of the work an NCO would do in the US, British, or German armies. It was the most striking difference in their military structure and made huge differences in their tactics.

As the sniper knew, the Soviet soldiers became confused without their leader. He'd seen this so many times with squad or platoon sized units. It didn't work so well with companies or larger units when there were normally multiple officers and a commissar to lead.

"Looks like the Reds are retreating," said Hooke.

"I'd give them an hour before their back, sir," said Robertson.

52 minutes later a large group of soldiers slowly traversed the field. They were doubled-over and had their weapons at their hips for greater mobility into stead of accuracy.

"Looks like a company. One of them is carrying a banner, might be the first of a battalion," said Sergeant Major Thomas Miller to Leftenant Hooke. For morale reasons, the Soviets sometimes had a soldier carry a Soviet flag into battle. This was supposed to instill patriotism into the soldiers and it often did get men to charge into a wall of machine gun fire. It however informed their enemy they were facing a battalion sized unit and if they saw multiple banners they where fighting larger units like regiments or divisions.

"Have the Vickers on our center open fire when they reach tree stump."

"Yes, sir."

The Russians started to look more relaxed as they got closer, but then a soldier passed a large stump in the ground about 55 m away from the bottom of the hill.

"Open fire!" shouted someone.

"Eat this you bloody bastards!" shouted another.

A hail of .303 cartridges mowed down the front ranks of Russian soldiers. It was quickly followed by a volley of rifle fire from the center line as British soldiers opened up. A couple of Brens, a light machine gun the British used that a single man could carried, joined in too.

As the shooting progressed, the Soviets started to figure out where they were being fired from and returned fire with horrifying accuracy. The Mosin-Nagant rifles weren't great, but they were accurate.

The British in the center were starting to get pinned and gunners were unable to reload their MGs without being shot.

With a shout from an officer the Soviets resumed their advance.

A sudden burst of machine gun fired from a different position caught them off guard. Two German MG-42s started spraying huge amounts of bullets into columns of Russians. The MG-42 had a rate of fire so high a person couldn't hear the noise in between individual shots. It was a terrifying weapon whose only drawback was overheating. However, the MG-42 was designed so a barrel could be swapped out in seconds during a battle.

The Soviets however seemed to refuse to retreat for reasons best known to them. The Germans thought of this as shear stubbornness. The British called it foolishness.

A Soviet T-28 medium tank rolled onto the field. The NATO troops had heard it coming a long way off and were ready for it.

The T-28 looked a little bit like something from World War I. It was also a little slow compared to other tanks like the Shermans or Panzer IVs.

From the trees, the crew of the 17-pounder took aim at the T-28.

They fired a single shot and smashed it right in its front. The tank could not survive the mighty British AT weapon and exploded.

Much to annoyance of the British and Germans, the burning tank did not help their visibility. The light of the flames reflecting off the fog and flakes of snow made it worse in some places.

The Russians continued to charge on. Their lines were a flurry of yells, screams, orders, and cracks of rifles. The German and British line was a wall of metallic clicks of bolts being turned, ringing noises of cartridges being ejected, and sharp bangs of rifles and chatter of automatic fire. They didn't need much direction from their officers and NCOs.

"Herr Hauptmann, the Kommunists aren't withering!" shouted an Oberfeldwebel (Staff Sergeant) (4).

"Funker (signaler), call in the Nebelwerfer," ordered the Hauptmann to the signal/communication soldier.

"Jawohl, mien herr!"

The British at first felt their hearts stop at the screech of the Nebelwerfers. They were conditioned to think it was enemy fire after fighting the Germans for five years (5). The Russians too knew the shriek of death, but they had no where to run.

The mortar-rocket artillery exploded in midair raining shrapnel on the Russians.

From a hill further away to the north. A group of men watched to battle.

"Comrade General, the 114th Infantry Battalion is being stopped. They seemed to have encounter Fascist artillery," reported a Senior Praporshcik (Senior Warrant Officer).

"I see. Order them to withdraw," ordered Major General Boris Semyonovich Filitov, commander of the 37th Motor-Rifle Division.

"Comrade General, don't you think that might destroy the moral of the Division?" asked a man standing next to Filitov.

"Comrade Commissar, the Great Patriotic War is over. I believe Glorious Comrade Stalin only meant 'Not one step back' for when the Rodina was under invasion by the Fascist. Besides, those Latvians will never breach the those lines," reasoned Filitov. Commissar Viktor Viktorovich Yudenich seemed satisfied that the Latvian soldiers would did not have the means to win.

"Perhaps we should send soldiers of Great Russian descent. I'm sure they could do much better," said Yudenich.

"Da," agreed Filitov. "Comrade Senior Praporshcik, order the 71st Tank Troops forward. They don't have any armor I can see from here."

"Panzers," said an Obergefreiter (Private First Class).

They heard the clank of Soviet armor. They also heard the sound of trees being knocked over.

"Kanoniers (artillery crew) stand ready!" shouted the Hauptmann.

Six T-28s and four T-34s rolled out onto the field as the Latvians, not that the Germans or British could tell they were Latvians and not Russians, started to retreat.

"Kanonier beriet (artillery crewm ready)!"

"Feuer, schnell (fire, hurry)!"

There were two blasts from the trees and two 88 mm shells roared through the air. The first missed, but the second smashed into a T-28.

A Soviet tanker turned his T-34 into firing position to bring the heavy front armor of the tank to protect himself from the deadly 88s. He did not notice the British soldiers with the PIAT launchers taking aim, but the quietness of the PIATs and the fact they don't leave smoke trails made them impossible to detect even after they attacked.

Fours rockets rained down on the medium tank. Three missed, but the forth knocked the left track leaving it immobile.

Another soldier with a PIAT hit the same T-34, but caused it little damage. It was then hit by an 88 mm anti-tank rocket fired from a Panzerschrek.

"Harrison, call up the 25-pounders and give them a target!" shouted Sergeant Major Miller.

"On it, sir!" acknowledged Private Harrison, Miller's squad's radio-op. "This is A-Coy. We need arty on our front. Use the HE rounds. Fire for affect. Over."

"Right'o, A-Coy. Standby for incoming arty. Out."

They could hear the booming of artillery. So could the Russians… actual Russians. Not the Latvians the NATO troops mistaken for Russians.

"Comrade General, Imperialist artillery is attacking Company C of the 71st Battalion. They're assault is bogging down," reported the Warrant Officer.

"Shit. Bring in the Katyushas. Will show the Imperialists and Fascists what the Glorious Red Army is made of," said Major General Filitov.

"Ivan's retreating, Leftenant," said Sergeant Robertson.

Leftenant Hooke did not take this as a good sign. The Germans were starting to recognize the signs and beginning to consider withdrawing.

"Leutenant Hooke, the Kommunist (Communist) don't normally retreat," said the Hauptmann. "They may be readying artillerie (artillery)."

Hooke looked at the German officer. He looked seriously alarmed by the Soviet's sudden withdrawal.

"Are you quite sure?"

"I fought the Kommunist at Stalingrad. I spent my service in the Infantrie (infantry) fighting against those hordes," he said. In the back of his mind he recalled the horrors of the Eastern Front. He couldn't wear his officer insignia because there were so many snipers. There wasn't a street anyone could walk down without running into snipers, machine gunners, and artillery spotters. And that wasn't just true for the Germans, the Russians had the same problems and the Germans were better armed. The Russians just attacked in larger numbers.

"I can't give that order, Cap'n," said Leftenant Hooke frowning.

"I cannot allow mien kompanie (my company) to die here. Mien orders were to hold but do not allow my kompanie to be harmed. If we find ourselves facing artillerie I am supposed to rejoin mein division at Munich," said the Hauptmann apologetically. "I hope your bataillon kommandeur (battalion commander) will understand the Kommunist are going to attack. First the artillerie will bomb you and then they will attack with their panzergrenadiers. You will not be able to hold."

Leftenant Hooke understood that the Germans were saying they were going to be overrun before tomorrow.

An hour later the Germans were falling back and started walking to Munich.

"Major, Jerry has withdrawn to Munich," said Hooke.

"Bloody cowards," said the Major.

"Sir, they were soldiers who fought on the Eastern Front. One of them was a veteran of Stalingrad. They know the Reds much better than us. Perhaps we-"

"Get to your position, Leftenant. We will hold until reinforced," said the Major.

"But sir, there will be no reinforcements. We're all that's left."

"To your position Leftenant or else I will see to it that you are relieved," threatened the Major.

"Sir," said Hooke gruntingly.

He walked back to his platoon. He looked north towards the Soviet's lines and south to where the Germans had headed. The snow was light, but the clouds made air support impossible.

It was extremely quiet. They could hear only the wind blowing and the occasional clicks of guns being shifted around.

It wasn't long before the silence was broken by the echoing screeches of rockets.

* * *

**0800 Hours; February 15****th****, 2012; Defense Intelligence Headquarters, Tokyo; Tokyo Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

"So Sergeant Major Takano, you're team observed the Soviet test?" asked duty chief.

"Hai, sir."

"Were you spotted?" asked one of the senior officials.

"Negative, sir. We were far away from their posts. There was only three soldiers under my command."

"Were you able to collect anything?" asked a woman from the Naichō, an intelligence service that answered directly to the Prime Minister.

"Sumimasen (excuse me), but we didn't deem it wise to enter the test area. There was no cover to speak of so we couldn't possibly enter without being spotted. It looks like the Soviets used old guided missiles as a controllable retrorocket," said Akira.

"How affective is it?" asked someone from the Military Intelligence Command. Agents from Fleet Intelligence Command and Air Intelligence Wing leaned in, clearly interested.

"Affective enough. It's much cruder than the parachutes the Army and Air Force are testing, but I think the Soviets are moving into final stages of testing and will have it in service by late spring or early summer," concluded Akira.

There was a silence for a while.

"Arigato, Sergeant Major. You are dismissed. You may not discuss this with anyone but the people you have seen in this room today. Wakarimasu ka (You understand)?"

"Hai, wakarimasu (Yes, I understand)," nodded Akira.

"Ii desu (good)."

Akira left the room.

"Where are we on our heavy-load parachutes?"

"The company that developed it has tested it already with vehicles with similar weight to our medium tanks. Before the end of the week will have a test with a live crew and munitions," said a man from MIC.

"We're that far along?" asked a woman from FIC in surprise.

"Ē (yeah). Will be done before the Communist. Will have a cheaper, faster system ready before even the Americans."

The Japanese learned from the Chinese invasion during the war their mobility issues. At the time they lacked amphibious transport to deploy their medium and heavy armor quickly.

Paratroopers and marines would be the ideal soldiers to deploy rapidly to Japan's numerous islands, many not accessible by road or rail.

Japan wanted to be able to deploy tanks via parachutes.

"Remember, quality is most important."

Everyone nodded at that. The Japanese believe that any task must be done to perfection. Quality is far more important than quantity. Besides, the West wasn't taking this too seriously for their own use. The Chinese and Soviets wouldn't have something nearly as good as the Japanese for years.

"I think the more worrying question is why the Soviets are developing this so urgently?"

* * *

Well I topped 11,000 words in this chapter.

I want to touch upon things in this chapter. First off, do you know what foreshadowing is? If not it is alluding to something that will happen in the future.

Second, I'm trying my hand at romance writing to broaden my skills. I personally thought I created some cute scenes with Mai. She is a fun character to work with.

Third, Sawachika Eri is a character I didn't work with much in my last story. Something I regret, but she had no place in it for a while. Now I'm trying to work with her character as the smart and powerful person she is.

Forth, I have tried to bring mention of characters from the previous story. I'm not really sure what to do with them yet, but I thought it would be a good idea to mention them however briefly.

I'm approaching the end of my first full week of classes. I have Great Asian Cities and their Culture three days a week as my history course. I have Astronomy two days a week, don't ask why I took it because I don't know either. And I have First Term Japanese five days a week. So far I've learned the first 20 katakana characters and some basic conversation pieces. Most importantly I learned to say 'Wakarimasen' which means 'I don't understand'. Ya'll might want to know that just in case.

I've been working on this character at intervals over the past week since I posted the last chapter. I don't have time to spend hours on this anymore. Actually I need to get back to reading about Chinese myths and ancient history. We're studying really old cultures. It should be noted by professor call Hinduism a recent religion.

Still, I'm pretty happy here.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. The M60 Patton tank is retired from service in the US Army and Marine Corps. They are in reserve in the US National Guard and in service in other countries like Israel and Turkey. There are no plans to return the Patton to service in real life, but having a lighter tank that is more expendable and easier to transport and maneuver wouldn't be such a bad idea.

2. Hai is the Japanese word for 'yes', but can be used in other context. If someone has knocked on your door you normally called out 'hai' to announce you are on the way.

3. Shitsurei shimasu means 'I will trouble you'. It is something that is considered polite to say when entering someone's home. If you are familiar with the person or you have been their before a few times than you're not expected to say it. Upon leaving you Shitsurei shimashita to thank the host for having you.

4. Oberfeldwebel doesn't literally mean staff sergeant, but it's NATO Rank Code is OR-6 which is roughly equal to a US Army Staff Sergeant. 'Feld' means field. I cannot find a literal translation to 'Webel'.

5. Although the British declared war on Germany in September 1939, the British and Germans didn't actually fight each other until they invaded France in 1940. So the British fought Germany in combat from 1940-1945.


	5. Chapter 5: The Cold War Never Dies

Well, this is where things start to fall apart. I'm working my way towards the war.

Heh, five chapters and I'm over 50,000 words and only two weeks have pasted in my story.

Gin, really nice to hear from you. I don't know if I'm getting EndWars, but it does look good. I'm really looking forward to Brothers in Arms 3: Hell's Highway and Mercenaries 2.

I'm having problems with my keyboard again. My A, Q, W, S, E, D, C, and Shift keys are all acting up on me. I'm not a great typist and this isn't helping me. I need to get new fucking computer. Especially since I have to write an essay on the Rig Veda and the Book of Documents… I'm in an Asian Studies course. I'm working towards an Asian Studies major so I'm in a course called Great Asian Cities and their Cultures which is an Asian history/culture course about India, China, and Japan. I'm also in First Term Japanese. The beauty of Hamilton College is they don't have any course requirements other than you have to do three writing intensive courses and three physical education courses.

Naturally I have joined the Anime Club. I'm also a member of the Asian Culture Club.

On an unrelated note that is more about my story, some of ya'll might wonder why I chose the location I did for Yagami. First reason was that in a couple of episodes some of the characters went to Tokyo, so obviously I had to pick a place near Tokyo and the Tokyo Prefecture. Secondly, when I was looking at an atlas I noticed there was a river called the Sagami which was spelt almost exactly like Yagami.

Next was Karakura, the town in which Bleach takes place. Some of you may have noticed one of the most defining features of Karakura is the river that runs through the middle of the city. Obviously I had to place it on a river so why not the Sagami-gawa?

Next is Hinata, the city mentioned where Love Hina takes place. Unlike the School Rumble or Bleach, Love Hina's author Ken Akamatsu specifically mentions that Hinata is located in the Kanagawa Prefecture… or at least if you read the last volume of the manga said so. Also, it was located near the coast because you could see it from the roof top.

The Sagami-gawa actually offered me a lot to work with since I could conveniently place three fictional cities on a real map for the purposes of my story.

If you are ever writing a fanfiction like mine, make sure you get yourself a good atlas and a big one too. It will be one of the most useful tools you'll ever buy because you can't always get good maps on the internet that show terrain, small cities and towns, and accurate scales.

I don't own any trademarked or copywrite item. Please leave a review and/or tell a friend.

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Cold War Never Dies**

"No matter what we like to say, think, or do

The Cold War just refuses to lie down and die."

My own quote about the Cold War and today

**0400 Hours; February 16****th****, 2012; Shinhachi Compound, Kirkland; Washington State, United States of America**

"Jack, you up?" asked Emma wondering into Jack's office.

"Yup."

"Did you look into Ginny's cousin?"

"… there's nothing I can do," he said quietly.

"What happen?" she asked just as quietly.

"He got caught up in a multi-nation counter-terrorism sting. He was going to assassinate British senior government officials with other Irish terrorists. This is not a military matter anymore Emma, it's now for the US State Department and the UK Foreign and Commonwealth Office," said Jack looking her in the eyes.

"And your family members in thee State Department?" asked Emma knowing Jack had a lot of family working US DoS (United States Department of State).

"Uncle Chris and Uncle Paul say the US is not going to interfere. They are going to let the British prosecute him in their criminal justice system."

Emma looked at him for a while. She knew Jack had probably had everything he could. Even she had made a few calls to her family and friends in Germany. Her cousin Erich in GSG-9 had arrested a group that had been connected to the Irish.

"I'm not going to class today. Jason, Maya, and I need to be on call all day because of the game in Washington. Hell, they might even send me to the Capital for the day," said Jack. It was then Emma noticed Jack had a travel bag ready.

He had his gun case too for his H&K HK-416, H&K MP-5SD3, and Benelli M3T.

"Isn't that a little much?" she asked. The sound-suppressed MP-5 with retractable stock was normal armament for most special forces unit in the West. A semi-auto shotgun could also be normal, but an assault rifle made it seem like Jack was expecting to go against heavily armed people.

"I learned to be prepared. At the most I probably only need the Colt .45," he said tucking his preferred weapon. The H&K USP .45 Tactical was for when he was a weapon he carried at all times.

He kissed Emma good-bye and left. There was a black ford sedan with dark tinted windows waiting outside. It had Washington State plates to make it a little less obvious that it was a government owned car.

"Good morning, Mr. Shinhachi," said the driving who was sitting behind the wheel. Jack got in back.

"Where to?" asked Jack.

"Regional office, sir. The Chief is going personally. The Assistant Chief will run normal operations today, but your in charge of the our office's security staff at DC."

"Understood. Let's get this day started."

"Roger that, sir." The driver drove quickly to interstate. Normally Jack took the Sounder, a local commuter rail service, into downtown Seattle, but the Sounder wouldn't start running until 6:00 and the CIFA needed its personnel now.

* * *

**0830 Hours; February 16****th****, 2012 (UCT -5); Dulles International Airport, Dulles; Commonwealth of Virginia, United States of America**

**United States Pacific Standard Time (UCT -8): 0530 Hours; February 16****th****, 2012**

Dulles was 40 km outside of Washington. It was one of two international airports servicing the Washington DC area, the other was Baltimore-Washington International Airport (BWI). There was also Regan National Airport, but that only serviced flights of US origin.

In three years the Washington Metrorail was going to open their Silver Line to connect Dulles with the Orange Line and the rest of the Metro system.

"Rossiya One, this is Dulles Tower, you are clear for your final descent, over," reported an air traffic controller in the main control tower.

"Thank you, Tower. We are proceeding as planned," acknowledged the pilot of the massive Ilyushin Il-96-300UP.

Rossiya was a Soviet state-owned airline that operated for civilian traffic, but many of its planes were reserved for VIPs like the senior Communist Party officials, senior Central Committee members, and middle to higher up employees of the ministries. The Politburo each got their own planes.

The Il-96 taxied to a special area reserved for heads of state visiting the American capital. Men in black suits from all kinds of agencies had surrounded the area and were actively search anyone who came within 200 m of the Soviet plane.

A truck with stairs on it raced forward to the main cabin doors and an airport worker, who had been strip-searched by the FBI, raced up the stairs to open the door. He race back down the stairs as ordered previously. He was not allowed to be near the Soviet senior staff.

A red carpet was rolled out with Secretary of State Nicolas Spinoza waiting at the end.

First to descend the stairs was a KGB Ninth Directorate colonel. The Ninth Directorate were responsible for the Moscow VIP Subway system known as Metro Two, secure government phone lines, and protect the senior staff of the Soviet government and Communist Party.

He was approached by a Secret Service agent, which would be his American counterpart. They spoke quickly and the American nodded.

General-Secretary Josef Ivanovich Penovaski descended the stairs slowly. He drank in the sights with a careful eye. 'So this is America.'

He placed a foot carefully on the concrete of the tarmac. His first footsteps in the West, not to mention the United States.

Behind him where his normal entourage of the Ministers of Defense, State Security, Foreign Affairs, and Interior. Also Vympel agents of the Ninth Directorate. Every branch of the KGB had the mighty Vympels and they specialized with their Directorate. In this case these agents were highly trained body guards for the exclusive use of the Politburo. It was considered the best job in the Ninth Directorate or the one of most importance.

"Mr. Penovaski, I'm not sure if you remember me, but I am Nicolas Spinoza. I am the Secretary of State and am in charge of foreign affairs and carrying out the President's foreign policy," he said shaking Penovaski's hand. "Is this your first time in the United States, sir?"

"Da, Mr. Spinoza," said Penovaski.

"Well, allow me to be the first to welcome you to the United States of America."

"Spa-see-ba… um, thank you," said Penovaski correcting himself.

They started to proceed to a limo waiting for them.

"Have the Party Chairmen of the Soviet Republics arrived yet, Secretary Spinoza?" asked Penovaski climbing into the limo. He tried not to look too impressed by the quality of the vehicle.

"The Chairmen of Poland, Ukraine, Georgia, and Russia have arrived. We had to wave off the Chairman of Romania for you, but he should be landing about now," said Spinoza as a Secret Service agent closed the door. The limo proceeded to leave with two decoy limos too. Each one had a lead car and a chase car. Along the way were unmarked tail vehicles that would allow the convoy at a distance and break off checkpoints for the next group of tail cars.

"This is the American capital?"

"No, this is Northern Virginia. Will be in Washington in about 30 minutes, depending on traffic, but we've done our best to clear traffic for the day."

"I assume there will be military escorts too."

"The military isn't allowed to participate in security operations without a state of emergency being declared. But I assure you that our law enforcement and security agencies our more than up for the job."

The Dulles Toll Road after a while merged with I-66 and the Orange Line. After a while, Penovaski had his first look at the Potomac River. As they crossed the Potomac he could see Memorial Bridge on his right and to his left was the Kennedy Center. Roughly straight ahead was the Washington Monument.

'And this is the White House,' he thought. Of course it was pretty obvious since it was a house that was all white.

Like his office in the Kremlin, the White House was decorated in a style that much preceded its current residences. It had many original oil paintings of the men the Americans called the 'Founding Fathers'. George Washington the First President of the United States, John Adams the First Vice-President and Second President of the US, Benjamin Franklin a man of more talents than they could be described in a single sentence, Thomas Jefferson the Author of the Declaration of Independence and Third President of US, James Madison the Father of the United States Constitution and Fourth President of the US, Alexander Hamilton the First Secretary of the Treasure, and so many more.

There they all were, paintings of every President of the United States of America: George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison Jr., James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, Martin Van Buren, William Henry Harrison, John Tyler Jr., James Knox Polk, Zachary Taylor, Millard Fillmore, Franklin Pierce, James Buchanan Jr., Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Johnson, Ulysses S. Grant (1), Rutherford Birchard Hayes, James Abram Garfield, Chester Alan Arthur, Grover Cleveland (Stephen Grover Cleveland), Benjamin Harrison, Grover Cleveland (2), William McKinley Jr., Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, Thomas Woodrow Wilson, Warren Gamaliel Harding, John Calvin Coolidge Jr., Herbert Clark Hoover, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Harry S. Truman (3), Dwight David Eisenhower, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, Lyndon Baines Johnson, Richard Milhous Nixon, Gerald Rudolph Ford Jr., James Earl Carter Jr., Ronald Wilson Reagan, George Herbert Walker Bush, William Jefferson Clinton, George Walker Bush, and the most recent addition, Michelle Smith Crane.

Even though the United States was considered a new country by most of the world, the Soviet Union was much younger. He was only the 13th General-Secretary of the Communist Party of the USSR. President Crane was the 44th President of the United States.

Still, it was one of the few things they had in common, both countries were young and had little in the way of ancient traditions or customs that England or China boasted.

"Good morning Premier Penovaski," greeted President Crane.

"And to you too, Comrade President Crane," said Penovaski rising as a gentleman once did once upon a time when a lady entered the room. Also this lady led one of the two most powerful nations in the world.

"Would you be interested in breakfast?"

"Da, that would be quite nice."

"Admiring the art?" she asked.

"Just noting there have been much more leaders of America than the Soviet Union."

"Funny, isn't it? Russia is much older than the United States."

"It is debated how old though. Most consider Great Russia to be founded with Czar Ivan I over a thousand years ago."

"Well, let me show you the main dining room and then I'm sure you have planned more than admire the White House's collection of art."

Penovaski nodded. He had planned to visit the embassies of the various Soviet Republics. The Soviet Union operated as a single nation for the most part, but each republic within the USSR had its own embassy. The Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR) generally represented the Soviet Union as a whole, but the other republics like the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic or Georgian Soviet Socialist Republic could represent themselves individually… with some notice to the RSFSR.

"So, how have things been in Soviet Russia?" asked President Crane politely once she took a seat at the dining room table. In the room were US Marines standing at attention in full-dress uniforms. This consisted of a dark-navy blue tunic with red trim and gold buttons, a white cap with black rim, black boots, and blue pants with a red stripe up the side. Penovaski was not intimidated by these men and women. They seemed more like decoration than guards. He suspected the real guards kept out of sight like most of the KGB and Red Army Kremlin Guards did in the Kremlin.

"Nothing unusual. My Minister of Agriculture is going to put new methods in this years planning. We are quite optimistic. You, Comrade?"

"I see. I am grateful no crisis breaking out yet. I'm so busy with the election."

"How does that work?" asked Penovaski curiously. Since the Soviet Union was a single party system and leaders were chosen by the Central Committee or the Politburo.

"First I must receive the nomination of my Party at the part convention, which usually is at the end of August or early September. Truthfully, my party is quite small so were trying to generate more members than run a serious campaign against each other. Democrats are mostly made of the left wing or liberals. Republicans are mostly the right wing or conservatives. We, the Independents are the moderates which makes as pretty attractive to people who are in one of the other parties and find they no longer agree with their representatives.

Unfortunately we don't attract young members that much. Teenagers and college students tend to be liberal or conservative. So most of our members are in their 30s to 50s.

Once I have the nomination of my Party, I have to campaign against the representatives of the Republican and Democrat Parties. In November we have the National Election and that will determine who is President."

"Fascinating," said Penovaski. 'Though, I doubt the Rodina could ever adopt a system like that.'

"How is Afghanistan?" asked Penovaski. The Soviets had invaded Afghanistan in the 1980s and found it one of their most humiliating decisions ever.

"They have come to an agreement. The tribal leaders and the provincial leaders have formed a kind of confederacy. It's a system that works and the Taliban doesn't appear to be coming back. I guess I managed to salvage one of my predecessor's 'projects'."

"You mean Comrade President Bush?"

"I call him my predecessor. I don't think I've used his name since I was elected in 2008."

"Still, you continue to occupy Afghanistan."

"No we don't. We have one air base, Bagram Air Base. It's pretty far from any major population centers so it doesn't bother the Afghanis. We keep are personnel on the base most of the time. Also we protect the Afghani Airspace since they lack a proper air force. It's much like are bases in Korea or Germany, we don't use the bases to dictate that nation's policy and we try to keep a low presence. Since Bagram doesn't have a lot of people living near it, that happens to be pretty easy," explained President Crane. This was fact, but she left out that Bagram AB was not a popular place to be assigned because you were placed in the middle of nowhere. Most of their tasks were refueling US planes coming from the Pacific and heading for Europe, investigating Afghani complaints about boogies violating their airspace, or monitoring Afghani skies.

So airmen joked they were really in the employment of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan," explained President Crane.

"Well, I must meet my ministers and ambassadors. I thank you for the meal, Comrade President."

* * *

**0952 Hours; February 16****th****, 2012 (UCT +9); Yagami Shrine, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

**United States Eastern Standard Time (UCT -5): 1953 Hours; February 15****th****, 2012**

"I don't understand why you wanted to come so badly," said Kenji as he climbed the steep stairs to the top of the hill where Yagami Shrine was located. This was not the safest thing since the stairs were old, uneven, icy, and in some places crumbling. Yagami Shrine was also the highest point in the city since most of the skyscrapers in the business districts weren't built on any of the hills.

"Well, it beats being home alone," argued Mai.

"Hai, but when school closed because of snow I usually found better things to do than meeting with a wedding planner," said Kenji shaking his head.

'This is for your own good, Onii-chan,' thought Mai. Eri was right as far as Mai was concerned, Kenji needed someone to keep an eye on him. He would never knowingly cheat on Yakumo, but someone like him could easily walk into a situation that looked real bad… plus he was famous for all kinds of misunderstandings.

"Ah, Harima-kun, you're here… and who is this?" asked Tsukino. She only looked phased for a moment, but it was so brief even Mai almost missed it.

"This is my little sister, Mai-chan. Mai-chan, this is Tsukino-san," introduced Kenji.

"Nice to meet you," said Tsukino sweetly, clearly not seeing Mai as a problem.

"Nice to meet you too," said Mai bowing low as to avoid showing the cold glare on her face. She had the element of surprise on her side and it was one she knew not to give up for as long as possible.

"So, Harima-kun, can you please look this over and make sure everything is in order?" asked Tsukino holding up a document.

"Hai," he said taking it and brushing against her hand… not that he really noticed.

'That won't get his attention,' thought Mai. 'It will take something more direct than that.'

"Seems mostly in order… except I think this part here is a little much. I'd like to keep under budget as much as possible."

"Oh, let me see," said Tsukino moving close to his side.

"Hai, I think that is too much money too," said Mai who quickly moved in to Kenji's side and heading off Tsukino.

"Ah, sumimasen gomenasai. I will fix this," she said trying to worm her way around Mai, but failing.

"Have you met with Sawachika-san?" asked Kenji.

"Who?"

"She's looking at the caterers for Suō-san. I think she and Yakumo have picked out the one we want to hire," stated Kenji. For him this was business and a little boring. He wished he hadn't been roped into this by Haruki, but Kenji was a man of his word and couldn't bring himself to break it.

"I haven't heard yet, but I will like to meet with her soon," said Tsukino professionally. Mai thought they were at least getting their money's worth since Tsukino was at least doing her job.

"Well… I guess that's it," said Kenji checking his watch. He was hopeful to get some work of his own done.

"Perhaps we should get some coffee and talk about this one problem," she pressed.

"Onii-chan, don't you have something important to do?" asked Mai. Kenji didn't, but with his ability to remember his daily tasks he wouldn't know anyways. His eyes widened in horror.

"Oh crap… I forgot… what did I forget?" he asked Mai.

"Suimasen (4), wakarimasen," said Mai. She knew her brother/legal guardian well. He would run home and try to remember what it was. Kenji would probably never notice Mai had lied or he might find something he had actually forgotten.

"Well, we need to go, Tsukino-san. Will do coffee, later. Sayonara," he said grabbing Mai by the hand and running back down the stairs to the street.

Mai glared at Tsukino who gave Mai a serious look. It was a look of a person trying to size up and decide how much of a problem that person is.

* * *

**0946 Hours; February 16****th****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

"… and that's how it is. Daijobu?" asked Eri.

"… wakarimasen (I don't know)," said Yakumo numbly. Her hands were shaking on the cup of tea she was holding.

The two of them were seated at the heated-table in the Tsukamoto's living room.

Yakumo didn't know what she was feeling. She wanted to scream, cry, and… she wanted to lash out. To cause someone pain was completely new to Yakumo and the thought made her both afraid and ashamed of herself.

"It's okay to by angry, Yakumo-chan. I know you're not good at it, but you are justified," said Eri patting her on the shoulder.

"… I… he… she can't do this," said Yakumo.

"She can and she will, Yakumo-chan. Right now Mai is watching Kenji-kun for me, but sooner or later you will have to face this woman," said Eri sternly.

Yakumo looked at her.

"You'll also have to learn that she won't be the last. Yakumo-chan, Kenji-kun might become famous one day. Sure, he is famous now, but most people wouldn't recognize him on the street today. That could change. He's young and while he isn't smart, he isn't exactly unattractive. Plus he might become wealthy. These are things that leeches like Tsukino-san look for," said Eri.

"Eri-san, I trust Kenji won't cheat on me for this… woman. He loves me."

"But he can be manipulated easily by other people," pointed out Eri. "Besides, what about the other women that could come in the future. Or what about other kinds of people that could take advantage of him. People who try to weasel money out of him or con him."

"That's why I'm taking business and law courses so I can read contracts for myself and protect both of us," said Yakumo.

"Exactly, which is why I'm going to teach you what to do."

"Really?" asked Yakumo unsurely.

"Really."

"Well then… what do I do?" Yakumo asked quietly.

"First, you need to be a little louder," said Eri.

"Hai," said Yakumo more clearly.

"That's good. But you don't want to be too loud. If you're polite it will be harder to fight you because what kind of person fights or argues with a nice person."

"Something you haven't really master," shot back Yakumo quietly.

"Itai (ouch)," laughed Eri. "Where did you get that little attitude?"

"Wakarimasen. I guess it's something you bring out in me," said Yakumo thoughtfully.

"I guess you should pretend Tsukino-san is me," said Eri with a grin to lighten the mood.

"Gomen," apologized Yakumo.

Eri and Yakumo both gave a start at the sudden buzzing noise of a phone on vibrate-mode.

"Moshi moshi? Mai-chan? … Hai? … A so desu ka… Iē… Ii desu. Ikimasen ne? … kuzo… ara? … iya... arigato. Mata," said Eri hanging up.

"Something wrong?" asked Yakumo.

"Plans have changed. Kenji-kun is going to have coffee with Tsukino-san… so what are you doing this Friday?" asked Eri.

* * *

**0700 Hours; December 9****th****, 1947; Starnberg, 20 km southeast of Munich; Bavaria Staat, Federal Republic of Germany**

Starnberg was another small city outside of Munich, which was the largest city in the Bavaria Staat (Bavaria State).

Here was a former Luftwaffe base and a radar station that was originally built to detect incoming American and British bombers that frequently attacked Munich during the war.

"The Krauts seem pretty excited today," said Captain Patrick Dobbs of the 142nd Fighter Squadron. He was sitting in the passenger seat of Willy's Jeep.

"They say they're joining us today," said 2nd Lieutenant Darrel Landers, Dobbs's wingman. He was driving.

"Eh?"

Dobbs looked over at the rows of German fighter planes, fighter-bombers, radar-fighters, bombers, transports, and scout planes. Most had been sitting idle since May 8th, 1945 when the War in Europe ended. Some had been grounded as early as March.

The Germans seemed to have refuse to give up their base, even though the Americans and British were flying sorties out of this base. The Germans had no fuel for their planes. So the Luftwaffe crewmen occupied their time with maintenance and security.

Most of the anti-air guns belonged to the German's Flugabwehr Kanone Korp (Anti-Air Canon Corps), or Flak Korp. The Red Air Force had tried more than once to take out the NATO planes on the group only to be chased away by barrage of 20 mm, 37 mm, 57 mm, and 88 mm shells. The Germans even had a couple of their 105 mm and 128 mm AA guns, two of the largest caliber AA weapons made.

"Well, I'm sure they'll be at the briefing like usual," said Landers.

When they reached the brief room they passed the usual German guard with an MP-40 and an American with a Winchester M1 carbine. Inside were the usual pilots and officers from the RAF, USAF, and Luftwaffe.

"Okay, boys. It's been confirmed that Limeys at Unterschleissheim where overrun. Weather is clearing up so were going to attack the Reds as they push south for Munich. The first groups will come in low with Thunderbolts and Lightenings. You main targets are Ivan's tanks and supply trucks. We're gonna' try and starve 'em of supplies like we did with the Germans," explained Colonel Mel Braddock, commander of the 34th Fighter Group.

They were under the command of the 3rd Air Force which was now the US's mainstay air unit in Europe. At this time they didn't have very good facilities but in 1953 Ramstein Air Base was built and it would the 3rd Air Force HQ from then on.

"The 142nd Fighter Squadron, 140th Fighter-Bomber Squadron, and 141st Fighter-Bomber Squadron will go to Unterschleissheim and harass the Reds. The rest will go for Markt Schwaben," said Colonel Braddock.

"Sir," said the leader of the 140th Squadron raising his hand. "The 143 and 144 have the Mustangs. The 142nd only has Lightenings. Can't we get a flight to cover us? Ivan's planes are pretty agile for my Thunderbolt."

"Well, today you're going to get fighter cover from the Luftwaffe."

A ringing silence filled the room.

"… you're kidding, right?" asked a pilot.

"Nein. Herr Oberst Braddock is quite serious," said Major Hans Feinberg, commander of Jagdstaffel (Fighter Squadron) 741 or JS 741. They were part of the new JG 74 (Jagdgeschwader 74 or 74th Fighter Wing). "Luftwaffe Kommand has consolidated fuel for our use today. Herr General considers the defense of Munich to be of the greatest importance."

"What planes are ya'll takin' up?" asked the 140th leader.

"We are sending up mien staffel (my squadron). Our Gustavs are eager to meet the Kommunist in battle again."

"Gustavs?"

"You might know it as the Messerschmitt Bf 109G."

"Well, it's 0745 local time. You have 15 minutes to be up in the air. Good luck."

Braddock walked to his Lockheed P-38 Lightening, the plane of aces. The Lightening was an unusual looking plane with a forked tail and twin engines. It was not the most maneuverable plane like most twin-engine fighters, but it was unusually agile for its type and in the hand of a good pilot it could take on anything. While the North American P-51 Mustang produced more aces, the Lockheed P-38 Lightening produced aces with much higher scores.

Braddock had started off in the Pacific Theater fighting Mitsubishi Type 0s, known as the Zeke or Zero, piloted by the Imperial Japanese Naval Air Force and Imperial Japanese Army Air Force. The Zeros were some of the lightest most agile planes ever made and it took a lot of tricks and skills to not get killed by them. One trick he learned was that he was faster than them, had better armor, and more powerful guns. He also learned at he could cut or lower the power to one engine on his P-38 and increase power in the other so he could make very tight turns.

In the Spring of 1944 when the Allies were preparing for Operation: Overlord, Braddock's squadron was transferred to Europe.

He had to relearn to fight because the Germans had very different flying styles and very different planes. First off, Germans planes had much better armor than the Japanese. Second, some of their planes were better armed than him. Third, some were almost as fast as him.

"Have you fought the Kommunist?" asked a German pilot walking up to Braddock.

"Not against their planes. Just shoot up ground targets."

"You will be fine, Amerikan. This plane we call the plane you fly, 'der Gabelschwanzteuful'. It means Fork-Tail Devil. Best of luck," he said walking to the German planes.

"Fork-Tail Devil? I like it," said Landers walking past Braddock.

Braddock checked his consol. Hydraulics looked good. The Lightening was one of the earlier planes to use hydraulics.

He had ten 127 mm rockets loaded on his wings. He had four .50 cals and one 20 mm auto-cannon. An external fuel tank was underneath him.

"Let's make 'em holler," said Braddock as he turned over the turbines.

They were cruising at 217 kt (401 km/h or 250 mph) over the snow covered Earth. Two squadrons of P-47 Thunderbolts, each with 16 planes, were flying high at 4,786 m (16,000 ft). In the pre-jet age, or in this case the early jet age, a common air tactic to avoid danger from other planes was to fly high.

Most fighter planes performed better at lower altitudes, as opposed to the jet planes that flew so fast it was very dangerous to fly too low and altitude for the most part negligible.

Flying higher still were the Lightenings and Gustavs. Lightenings because of their twin-engines operated much better than most planes. The Gustavs didn't do as well, but their highly efficient engines allowed them to keep up at these speeds.

"That must be the main road," said one of the Thunderbolt pilots. He tilted his plane to get a better look at the ground. "I see tanks."

"A Flight, follow me in. B Flight, I see something on the that hill next to the highway, check it out. C Flight, ya'll clean up after me. D Flight, take whatever looks good to ya'll," ordered the commander of the 140th.

"Sally 9, follow them in," ordered Braddock's squadron leader.

"Roger that, sir," said Braddock.

Four P-38s drifted away from the main group and circled above the P-47s.

The Thunderbolts dived in on the Soviets who were horrified at the sight of the American planes. A roar of sound from the P-47s eight .50 cal heavy machine guns echoed in the ears of the pilots. The pilots took aim and as they pulled out of their dived they released a few rockets at the Soviet KV-1 heavy tanks.

"KV-1s, we hit the jackpot today," laughed one of the pilots.

"Watch it, AA in those trees," warned another as a 14.5 mm gun harassed the fighter-bombers.

"Forget it and pull out."

"Roger that, sir."

Braddock was bored. This was normal routine for the fighter-bombers. He spotted a 61-K, a 37 mm AA-gun.

"Sally 10, AA 5 O'clock. Let's take it, over."

"Got it, out," said Landers.

The banked into the turn and dived on the AA-gun. They eased back on the throttle and raised the flaps a little. Braddock didn't know why, but in a high speed dive sometimes pilots could not control their planes and they would sometimes crash into the ground.

He had no way of knowing at this time that it was caused by approaching supersonic speeds. At full speed in a dive, some planes nearly reach the speed of sound which and air builds up on the wings and are deflected from the tail. Pilots cannot control their planes at this point. Later planes would have hydraulic controls and swept-wings to counter this issue as planes got increasingly faster.

"He's shooting," warned Landers.

"He's on you, break left and I'll take 'im," said Braddock.

"Sure thing," said Landers turning left and gunning his engine. He rolled to increase altitude and to confuse the gunner. The 61-K crew seemed to realize what was happening and turned to face Braddock.

"Shit, breaking off. You try next and swing around."

Landers eased back on his left engine and increased his right. He pressed on the petals and turned hard. He saw the 61-K, a small metal object with a pipe spitting out green lights. Landers grinned and pulled his trigger.

Most planes from World War II had the guns their wings and they would converge on a point which defined their maximum range. This was for a numbers of reasons because mounting guns on the noise would lower the rate of fire because of the propeller on the noise. Since the P-38 had its props on its wings, the guns were on the noise.

This meant the Lightening pilots could shoot further than most pilots and found it easier to aim.

Four .50 cals rained down the AA crew who disappeared in a cloud of dust and snow kicked up by the bullets raking the ground.

"Got him, sir."

"Nice," said Braddock.

Lightening pilots always worked in coordinated groups of two at the least, especially the Pacific Theater pilots. It was a bad and dumb idea to dogfight with the more agile Japanese planes, so they would operate in teams and protect each other. Because of this, Lightening pilots were usually very skilled at team work and wingmen often were together for years.

Braddock and Landers had flown sorties together since the Solomon Islands campaign in 1942 and the P-38 was first introduced. They didn't need to discuss or talk much, they just knew what the other needed or wanted with minimal words.

"I see tank destroyers," said Landers.

"Not for long."

(This section to be continued in another chapter)

* * *

**1847 Hours; February 16****th****, 2012; Control Booth, Verizon Center; Washington DC, United States of America**

"How's things shaping up?" asked an FBI agent.

"So far routine. Place is a madhouse and our staff are struggling to keep order," said a Verizon Center employee wryly.

Next door was another control room for the exclusive use of the US DoHS and FBI for special events.

"The FRS (facial-recognition system) got a few hits of people coming up from Gallery Place-Chinatown," said a Department of Homeland Security agent. They used the Washington Metropolitan Transit Authority security cameras to see who was coming up from the Metro rail station that the Verizon Center.

Gallery Place-Chinatown was one of the four busiest stations on Metro rail. It service the Red, Yellow, and Green lines.

They used the images from the cameras at the station gates, crosswalks at street intersections, and building security cameras pointed at the sidewalks. They then ran the images through a program that isolated the face and ran it through a national database/

"Hit #097 was arrested and convicted in New York State for armed robbery. Hit #098 was arrested and convicted in Maryland for assault with a deadly weapon. Hit #099 was arrested in Delaware for vehicular manslaughter…"

They were screening for people with violence related crimes. At least the DCPD (District of Colombia Police Department) was looking at them. The FBI was screening for more radical criminals. The DoHS was looking for terrorists… as usual.

The images were also being transmitted to the US Intelligence Community. The CIA and NSA were keeping an eye on the Soviets who were coming in. The CIFA were watching for spies that were unofficially in the US. Since none of them were supposed to be conducting operations in the US, they couldn't have their personnel in the open.

Viktor Pretrović however watched from afar.

"Stefan, do you see our target?" asked Pretrović.

"Ne (no), Viktor. The traitors are probably coming in a special entrance. We'll never get near them now," said Stefan.

"It doesn't matter. We know where they'll be later."

"I have food," said a man entering the room.

"Dobro veče (good evening), Novak. Havla (thank you)," said Viktor.

"Da, the Chechens will try to make their move soon. Do they really think just because this isn't Russia they'll have luck in America?" laughed Stefan.

"Does it matter. They'll distract the Americans for us. Once something bad happen, they'll assume nothing else will happen," said Viktor.

"Sir, get a load of this," said a DoHS agent.

"Chechens?" asked the senior agent on watch. He looked at the image of a member of a known Chechen terrorist group.

"Yup, and it looks like he's hiding something," said the agent pointing to a bulge on the man's shirt.

"This is Control to Metro 4. Slavic man with black hair and mustache, black coat and grey shirt," said the senior agent.

"Metro 4, here. I see him. Please advise. Over."

"Tail him."

"I copy."

On the screen they could see a Hispanic man subtly follow the man.

"He's moving for the Center's entrance. Mobile 9 can you intercept?"

"Mobile 9, ready and standing by," said a black woman plainly dressed and standing in the crowd. "I see him."

She followed the man through the crowd.

"He's moving for an emergency exit #9. Prepare to intercept."

"Roger. Stay on him incase he changes course."

"Understood."

The Chechen opened the door, knowing the alarm was disabled by employees who would use it to leave ahead of the crowds. He entered and proceeded up the stairs. He reached another door and opened it.

"Freeze!" ordered two DoHS agents with their weapons drawn. "Hands out of your pockets!"

The Chechen didn't move at first. He was too shocked.

"Sounds like our friend from the Caucasus got caught," said one of the Serbians listening to the securities transmissions.

"They should have known better," said Stefan.

* * *

**1632 Hours; February 16****th****, 2012 (UCT -8); Counter-Intelligence Field Activity Northwest Directorate, Seattle; Washington State, United States of America**

**United States Eastern Standard Time (UCT -5): 1932 Hours; February 16****th****, 2012**

"Things sure look like their going smoothly," said Lt. Colonel Maya Solomon.

"Yeah, those Homeland Security dipsticks might just be useful after all," stated Lt. Colonel Jason Maiwald wryly.

"That'll be the day," snorted Maya.

Jack was staring at the security monitors. He looked up at one and picked up a cellphone. "Sirius, this Piney Creek. Tango spotted with Yankee's hat and dark-blue windbreaker. KGB Fist Directorate, he is not authorized to be in the US and did not enter with a valid passport."

"Right, I'll pick up the kids for you, honey. See ya' soon," said the agent known as Sirius. It was code for 'I will capture him and contact you immediately after'.

"Who is that joker?" asked Jason.

"Sirius or Tango 1?"

"Both."

"Sirius is need-to-know. You don't need to know," said Jack flatly. Jack didn't know Sirius's name or his face, but he knew he was assigned as a field agent to the CIFA's EUROCOM (European Command) at Brussels. He normally operated in Vienna.

"Tango 1?"

"He is a captain in the KGB. Seventh Directorate. Name unknown, but we know he does a lot of recon and pre-mission observation work."

"Vympel?" asked Maya.

"Unknown," said Jack.

"Are we taking him out?" asked Jason.

Jack's phone rang.

"Code in……. status………. very good, standby for transport," ordered Jack.

"Jason, notify Victor 4 to pick up at designated location."

"Sure."

"Tell them they're picking up two packages."

"Two?"

"Tango 1 was capture with a second Tango. Unknown, but Slavic. You know him?" asked Jack pulling up an image of an unconscious man and showing him to Jason and Maya.

"I only know him as Filip, but he Eighth Directorate," said Maya. "My team in Afghanistan busted a KGB com station back in '09 and he was one of them. He was a specialist in black ops communication. He must have been important because during the extraction a bunch of Spetsnaz came for him and force us to leave him behind."

"GRU or KGB?"

"GRU," said Maya.

Jason grinned. "If the GRU rescued him, then this must a joint military-government intelligence operation. The military don't normally go saving KGB spooks. Must be big."

"I'll call the Director," said Jack. Something like this would have to be reported to the top. The next question was why was a member of Seventh Directorate, the KGB's surveillance wing, and the Eighth Directorate, the KGB's communication wing, in the United States?

* * *

**0900 Hours; February 17****th****, 2012 (UCT +9); Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

**United States Eastern Standard Time (UCT -5): 2000 Hours; February 16****th****, 2012**

Kenji was working at his desk in his room. He was oblivious to the outside world as usual when he worked. He didn't know or care that thousands of kilometers away was a hockey game between the United States and the Soviet Union. Nor did he know that once again events well beyond his control were taking place.

If he did, maybe he wouldn't be so peaceful.

In his new story the protagonist was about to begin his second year as a high school student. He was in pursuit of his first love who was walking with her younger sister that was starting her first year as a high school student. Kenji liked to write about things he knew or personally experienced.

He sighed and sat up. He walked to his closet and pulled out a few articles of clothing. An olive-drab shirt, combat pants, a tunic, Kevlar-vest, and jacket. Kenji wasn't allowed to take the helmet back with him because it had a short-range radio in it and military frequencies. He wouldn't have to go anywhere until Friday evening. Then he would leave for Hinata Army Camp, a small Japanese Federal Army base used for training soldiers in the 1st Infantry Division or 1st Engineer Brigade.

He reviewed his orders from Northeastern HQ at Sendai where the 6th Infantry Division's HQ was. This was from his battalion commander, Major Nara Tsubaki… well it was a copy of a letter he wrote and a computer filled in Kenji's name and rank.

Nara was once in command of Dogwood Company, but was promoted to battalion commander. Brigadier General Akesaka Michie was court-martialed and removed from his command for abandoning one of his regiments. Hojo Mitsuhito, former commander of the 81st Heliborne/Armor Infantry Regiment, was promoted to Brigadier General and made commander of the 14th Reserve Mobile Infantry Brigade.

Daijin Shiori was promoted to Colonel and was now regimental commander.

The hard part was deciding who would be the new 27th Infantry Battalion commander. It was a toss up between Nara Tsubaki and Hitsugaya Tōshirō. Both were the best officers in the battalion. In the end, Nara was chosen over Histugaya. He had seniority by age since Nara was 31 and Hitsugaya was 21. Also, Nara had been in more battles. He fought in the First Battle of Pusan and the Battle of Awaji-shima. Hitsugaya had not been assigned to a combat command until just before the Battle of Shinomoseki.

He had not liked being passed off, but he had accepted the decision. Hitsugaya knew he would be next up for promotion.

Kenji had not received any promotions, but he did get a service medal. The division received the Imperial Unit Citation Award which marked them as honor guard soldiers of the Federal Government and the Emperor of Japan.

He had everything in order and was ready for battle. Of course it was only a training exercise.

Leaning back in his chair, Kenji reviewed his calendar, something Yakumo had gotten him to help remind him of his appointments.

'Wednesday February 16, 2012: Finish chapter 1 of new manga; pick up dinner. Thursday February 17, 2012: go to dentist. Friday February 18, 2012: have coffee with Tsukino-san; leave for training.'

* * *

**2217 Hours; February 16****th****, 2012 (UCT -5); VIP motor-pool, Verizon Center; Washington DC, United States of America**

**Japanese Standard Time (UCT +9): 1117 Hours; February 17****th****, 2012**

The mood among the Americans was subdued. They lost 3-1 to the Soviets.

The Soviet entourage left first.

"Madam President, the Kosovar foreign minister requests a meeting with you," said a Secret Service agent.

"Fine. I'll go with him to their embasy."

"I don't think he meant now," said the agent.

"I have to leave for Connecticut tomorrow. It's now or Monday," she said flatly. The agent spoke into the small microphone attached to his collar. He put his hand to his ear-piece to listen to the response.

"He says he agrees. We'll send Team Foxtrot with you," said the agent.

Most of Kosovars left, but the foreign minister was delayed because he had to wait for the American security detail to assemble.

President Alush Zharku was reading a newspaper in his limo. With him was Prime Minister Nenad Belushi. In the Republic of Kosovo, the President was the head of state and the Prime Minister was in charge of the Assembly of the Republic.

Most of the ministers were back in Pristina. They were headed to Dulles for a flight back home. Tomorrow would be the fourth anniversary of the Kosovo's independence. Since Kosovo was such a new country, most of the government was still trying to secure their future.

The driver was having a little trouble. The District of Colombia's roads were confusing. They were not nearly as bad as cities like Boston or London, that were just not meant for automobile traffic, but it had several one-way streets that people went the wrong way down sometimes.

**Crash!**

"What the hell happened?!" shouted President Zharku.

"A car crashed into us, Mr. President. Stay here, I will check it out," said the driver getting out. There was a silver Ford with tinted windows. He wondered if it was one of the American security agents. The Ford he crashed into the passenger-side of the limo and knock the limo into the middle of the intersection.

"Hello, are you okay?" asked the driver. Being in America for two years had served as a crash course in English.

A man opened the driver side door.

'Something isn't right,' thought the driver. The four people in the car behind were slowly approaching and the man who had crashed into him looked mostly unharmed… as if he… done it on purpose…

"Stay where you-!" the driver started to yelled. Fell to the ground. His eyes were wide and were starting to glaze over. A trickle of red rolled down his face from a 9 mm hole in his forehead.

"Mirko, open the door and then stand clear," ordered Stefan.

"Da."

Mirko walked to the limo's door as the men behind him drew revolvers from their coats.

"DC Police! Hands in the air!" shouted two police officers drawing their sidearms.

The Serbians scattered for cover behind their two cars in the middle of the intersection and opened fire. He struck one officer in the chest and grazed the other.

"Shit. Chris, you stay here and I go around. Chirs? Oh fuck," cursed a young black man in a blue police uniform. "This is Badge 4503, officer down. I repeat, officer down. Shots fired. Request immediate backup, over."

"This is Central, we read you. Backup inbound. ETA 50 seconds. SITREP."

"There are four or six guys out there. They have silenced guns…-bang- shit they're shooting at me with automatic weapons! My partner is down! I think he's dead and I'm pinned down! There are a lot of people here and its chaos! The bad guys rammed a limo and I think they want whoever is in there!" described Officer James Hightower, a new recruit to the Metropolitan Police Department of the District of Colombia (MPDC, DC Police, or MPD). He graduated from the academy only last month. He was scared out of his mind. His senior partner was dead, he was outnumbered, and outgunned.

Hightower peaked around from behind the Chevy he was hiding behind. He fired a couple of shots from his Barette M-92S and ducked back behind it as a rain of 9x19 mm rounds raked the car he was using for cover.

"This is Car 1027, we are on see and- Holy shit!" screamed Officer Jeanette Peters. Her windshield was pummeled by automatic fire and she ducked under the dashboard. The windshield was bulletproof, but shattered after being repeatedly hit. Peters pressed the shotgun release button and rolled out of the car with a Remington 870.

She looked left and saw on the other side of the intersection was another officer, who was Hightower. Peters raised her shotgun and fired at one of the Serbians. She heard a yelp and new she had wounded him. They were shooting at the limo and people inside were shooting back with handguns.

"This is Car 1027, my car is totaled and I'm pinned. I can't get to Officer Hightower. We need SWAT (Special Weapons and Tactics) backup, over," she said. Peters was a third year veteran of the force, but this was her first shootout.

"… -static-…"

"Shit," cursed Peters. 'What kind of criminals have radio jamming devices?!'

She surveyed the area again. A few teenagers were hiding behind cars. There was a couple clinging together behind a deliver truck. A middle-aged businessman lying under the dashboard of his car. The number of civilians were too high for Peters liking. She could see a few innocent people were dead or dying.

A new group was moving towards the firefight. They were dressed in black and moving in coordinated formation. Peters couldn't tell who they were and she raised her shotgun, ready to defend herself.

Two people in black moved under a streetlamp, but tucking behind cars so that the gunmen couldn't see them but Peters could. They were black combat pants, a thick jackets, bulletproof vests, tact-vests, and helmets. On the vest written in white was 'FBI'.

The FBI SWAT had to abandon their vehicles because of all the abandoned cars in the street. People had not wanted to stay in cars with bullets flying around and a tank full of gas under them.

The FBI carried Colt M4 Law Enforcement carbine, H&K MP-5/10 SMGs, Remington 870 shotguns, and Glock P-22s handguns. The M4 carbine police used differed a little from the military models. SWAT was not allowed to use 30-round clips, they could only go up to 20. SWAT was also trained to use only semi-auto and avoid full-auto. The MP-5/10, sometimes called the MP-10, was a 10x25 mm (.40 caliber) version of the MP-5 that was intended to be marketed to Swedish and American law enforcement. There was another variation called the MP-5/40 that used the American .40 S&W (10x22 mm).

The federal agents moved in with all the speed and silence of special forces teams they trained with.

"All units, you are cleared to engage. Protect the Kosovar leaders at all costs," ordered Sergeant Alex Doniger.

The SWAT officers took aim and opened fire on the Serbians who had not seen their stealthy approach. Using laser pointers the SWAT officers could aim more accurately than the Serbians with Uzis.

"Shit, they have rifles," said one of the Serbians.

"But we-" the man was cut off as a SWAT sniper put a bullet in his head.

Stefan looked around him for his men and saw they were being cut down by FBI's carbines which had a much longer reach than his Uzi.

He took a deep breath and charged the limo. He drew his revolver out and shot one of the bodyguards in the neck. He killed a second who was trying to kill him from a shattered window. Stefan was so close. The door was hanging open with a dead guard leaning against it.

Stefan could taste sweet victory. He would end the Kosovar's revolt.

The smile on his face did not quite die with him. He slump face forward into the interior of the limo. A pool of blood formed around his head where the SWAT sniper had struck him.

"… clear?" asked one of the SWAT officers.

The others surveyed the area. "Clear."

Officer Peters rose from behind her cover. Officer Hightower stumbled to his feet clutching a bleeding arm where the Serbians had shot him. He saw people starting look up from their hiding places.

"Stay down!" he ordered. "Don't move until we say it is safe!"

Nobody spoke or disobeyed. They quietly went back to hiding and hoped it was all over.

Hightower stumbled to his partner. He was dead. He walked to the limo. He was trembling from shock. He felt nauseas from all the blood.

Hightower saw the limo door on the passenger side was open. One of the gunmen was lying in the doorway. Hightower approached him carefully, but saw he was dead. He peaked inside and was met by the sight of a gun being aimed at his forehead.

The man looked no older than 20. He was dressed in a black suit like most of the federal agents in America wore. Hightower guessed he was a bodyguard since he was kneeling over two men lying in the prone and their hands over their heads. The man was bleeding from a cut on his forehead and he tried to wipe blood from his eyes with his left hand.

"DC Police, man. I'm a friend," said Hightower holding his gun loosely to show he meant no harm. He didn't know if the guard spoke English or what country he was from.

"Badge," uttered the guard in a foreign accent. Hightower didn't understand him at first, but nodded after a moment. He removed the silver shield (5) from his jacket and handed it to the guard. He looked at it and flipped it open to see the ID card inside. He looked between Hightower's picture and Hightower's face. The guard nodded and gave Hightower back his badge. He then flicked on the safety of his gun and holstered it.

Hightower holstered his weapon too. The guard leaned down towards the men on the floor and tapped them gently on the shoulder.

"Americans, Mr. President. They have fought of the enemy. I think we are safe," said the guard.

President Zharku stood up looking as if he still was processing everything while the guard helped Prime Minister Belushi.

Hightower helped the two strangers out of the limo. He saw a female officer, Peters, checking to make sure the gunmen where dead. So were the federal agents.

"DC Central, say again," said a FBI agent into his radio.

"There is a report that a VIP was shot at the Verizon Center. Secret Service and emergency response units are inbound."

"Hey, Jimmy. Did the President leave the Verizon Center?" asked another agent.

The agent named Jimmy turned pale white and his eyes widen. "… oh my god…"

* * *

**2221 Hours; February 16****th****, 2012; VIP Motor Pool, Verizon Center; Washington DC, United States of America**

"Say again, I do not copy. Repeat, I do not copy," said a Secret Service agent into his radio.

"There is a… -ort… Kosovar… attack," said the radio. It kept cutting out and the agents were only getting every other word.

The agents were confused, but knew something wasn't right.

"Send out the FBI SWAT team. Sounds like there is a shootout 10 blocks west of here," said a senior agent.

"Sir," acknowledged an agent and ran to do as he was told.

No one saw that an unfamiliar man was approaching them. He looked like a Secret Service agent. He had the suit, sunglasses, earpiece, and everything. The man couldn't see very well because of the sunglasses, but it would make him harder to recognize for a while. He knew what was about to do was suicide. Once he attack there was no possible escape, but he had to do it.

Pretrović didn't understand why Foreign Minister Lufti Stanković didn't leave with the others. He was going to deal with this one personally anyways. Stanković was a Serb working in the Kosovar government. He was a traitor to his people and Pretrović seethed with anger. It was bad enough that those Albanian degenerates had revolted against the Greater Serbia. But Serbs working to undermine their motherland and destroying Yugoslavia was enough to make Pretrović want to explode, but first he was going to kill this man.

He would only have one chance.

"Hey, where are you going?" asked an agent.

Pretrović in a second drew out his revolver and shot the agent. Because it was a sound-suppressed weapon no one noticed it at first. Pretrović took aim. He could see there was a woman in the way, but he couldn't tell who because of the sunglasses. No matter to him. He fired four shots hitting both of them. He raised the gun to his chin and fired. The bullet went through his jugular and out his cerebellum.

Viktor Pretrović, former captain in the BIA, died on February 16th, 2012 from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Ironically it was within a few hours of the anniversary of Kosovo's independence, the very country he was working to destroy.

On this day he had killed the Foreign Affairs Minister of the Republic of Kosovo…

"Oh my god! He shot the President!"

… and shot the Michelle Smith Crane, President of the United States of America and the most powerful woman on the face of the Earth.

* * *

**1215 Hours; February 17****th****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Kenji was eating lunch. Since everyone else in the house had school, he had to make his own lunch. Joining him today was Haruki who had only one morning class today.

They were watching the news.

"The Nikkei was up 9 points today. Kuchiki Heavy Industries has announced a major contract with the Federal Army. It- wait… I'm getting an urgent report," said the reporter slowly looking surprised as a stage crewman handed him a piece of paper. The reporter stared in shock for a moment and then said slowly, "Ladies and gentlemen of the Federation of Japan, it is my unfortunate duty to report that the President of the United States of America, a dear friend of our Prime Minister and our nation, has been shot in the American capital of Washington DC. President Crane Michelle was the victim of a terrorist attack of unknown origin. No group has yet been confirmed to be responsible. We are now to cut to an immediate emergency press conference with the Prime Minister live in Washington DC."

The screen changed to the Federation of Japan's Embassy in the United States. Prime Minister Aokami Shin was standing at a podium flanked by the Ambassador to the United States of America Asakura Itsuki.

"People of the Federation of Japan. At this time we can only confirm the President of the United States has been shot. We have also confirmed that the President and Prime Minister of the Republic of Kosovo have been attacked. We also have just been in informed that Lufti Stanković, the Kosovar Foreign Affairs Minister, has been assassinated."

There were gasps from the press. Kenji and Haruki mouths fell open. They didn't know who Stanković was. They didn't even know where Kosovo was. The country was four years old as of today.

"Prime Minister Aokami, can you substantiate the rumors that the terrorists were Serbian?" asked a reporter.

"Not at this time, but the Americans are putting all their resources into the investigation. This is their head of state that was attacked and a minister of a foreign nation was murdered on their soil. The Europeans and Americans are making this their highest priority. We too are looking into the possibility of connections to our nation, however we feel it is unlikely due to low terrorist activity in Nihon (Japan)."

"So will our nation be expected to take action?" called out a reporter from Nippon Hōsō Kyōkai (NHK), one of the biggest news agencies in Japan.

"It is so far unlikely, but this involves the Republic of Kosovo, a country in the Balkan Peninsula. Southeastern Europe is viewed as the most unstable part of the European Continent and the people who live their have trouble predicting events, so as the head of state of a country on the other side of the world I don't think I am one to judge," said Aokami with a small smile. The press laughed lightly at the joke.

"Our embassy in Kosovo has expressed our sincerest condolences to the Kosovar government for their loss. And Asakura-san and I will be visiting the American President. Please pray for her recovery, my follow subjects of his Imperial Excellency Akihito-Tennō. For Crane-sama has aided our nation in its greatest crisis since the Pacific War."

"Aokami-Shushō (Prime Minister Aokami), what are the other heads of states doing at this time?" asked a reporter from the BBC (British Broadcasting Company) World Service.

"Prime Minister Hackett Donald has visited the American President, but has made no statement about her condition. Chancellor Strömvall Anne is making a statement to her people as I am doing. We have no word on the Kosovar leaders, but they are deeply distressed that they have lost a member of their government hours before their independence day. We have no word from Soviet leaders. Now please excuse me."

"Yoku nai desu nee (this is not good, is it)?" asked Kenji.

"Ee, komarimasita nee (yeah, we have a big problem)," agreed Haruki.

* * *

Sorry about the long delay ya'll. I just sat down from my First Term Japanese class and finished this chapter. Actually, the phrases I used in the last dialog are something I learned last week. I could explain it to ya'll but it would take a while and it's probably better if you were in a class.

I hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter. I tried to make it authentic in its action and other areas. Grammar however is for me hopeless and with my keyboard problem I sure it is only getting worse.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. President Grant was born as Hiram Ulysses Grant, but changed it to Ulysses Hiram Grant. Later he dropped Hiram and took on Sam as his middle name which is supposedly his nickname. Thus he is known as Ulysses S. Grant.

2. President Cleveland served his first term, but was not reelected. After President Harrison he was elected to serve his second term making him our 22nd and 24th President.

3. Do to a family argument at his birth whether his middle name should be Shippe or Solomon, the 'S' that is his middle name does not stand for anything. Thus, Harry S. Truman is his full name.

4. Sumimasen is an apology that is used quite frequently. Suimasen is a less formal version.

5. In the United States, most officers have silver shields, or badge. A gold shield is worn by detectives, senior policc officers like lieutenants and captains, sheriffs, and federal agents.


	6. Chapter 6: Rehabilitation

Over 51,000 words, well as the Marines say: oo-rah... not that I'm a Marine. But I didn't top 50,000 words in my last story until chapter 15.

I also just started watching Planetes the other day. It is probably the most realistic space anime I've ever seen. It was highly recommended to me for years. I have to say I really enjoyed and I loved the female protagonist Tanabe Ai.

Gin and asdf thanks for the reviews. I was pretty happy with your reactions.

I don't own any trademarked or copywrite item. Please leave a review and/or tell a friend.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Rehabilitation**

"Sometimes the deepest wounds can't be seen."

Unknown to me, tell me if you know

**2137 Hours; February 19****th****, 2012; High Security Ward, Walter Reed Military Hospital; Washington DC, United States of America**

'… w-where… where… am I?' she wondered. It was her first coherent thought in nearly 24 hours. She couldn't move. Panic over took her and she realized in a splint second what had happened. The gunman. The shots.

"Her heart rate is spiking!" shouted someone, but she wasn't really aware of it.

She saw his face illuminated by the flashes of gunfire. His eyes were alive with delight and his mouth was forming a sinister grin of pleasure. He wanted to kill someone with all his heart and soul… she knew Americans weren't the most popular people, but she had thought she had improved their image.

"Nurse! Yeah, inject that into her IV," said a doctor.

"Is she conscious?" asked another one.

"Her mind is racing. Jesus, it looks like she's having a seizure."

"Okay, heart rate is stabilizing. Nurse, she's almost done with that bag. Can you start hero on a fresh bag of O Negative?"

"Right away, Doctor."

She was starting to grasp the situation. She must be in a hospital.

That would explain the beeping in the background and why she felt several things strapped to her body.

She slowly opened her eyes and was nearly blinded by the lights shining on her. There were eight people with surgical masks standing around her.

"Ah, you're awake. How do you feel, Madam President?" asked one of the doctors.

"T-the… gun… man?" she croaked. Her throat was dry and she was having trouble talking due to an oxygen mask and a feeding tube stuck up her noise and down her throat.

"Dead. Once the Secret Service spotted him, they all opened fire."

"The… Min… ister?"

The doctor looked away. "…… he was killed."

President Crane closed her eyes in horror and groaned. Her mind was clouded by the drugs that some doctor no doubt had put in her to avoid pain. It was too much for her liking and she was worried about becoming addicted.

No, she had other problems. She had been shot… this was an act of war… but who? No, who wouldn't want to kill he was a better question. China? Russia? Iraq? Iran? North Korea? … hell it could be her mother-in-law for she knew at this point.

'Why…?' was her last thought before she lost consciousness.

"Why?" asked Christopher Crane, the First Gentleman.

"Why was she shot?" asked a Secret Service agent. "We're trying to find out now, sir. We are making the investigation our highest priority, after her safety that is."

"Good. Ellie and Jeff are both at Camp David now, right?"

"Yes, sir. They are both safe and comfortable as we can make them for the time being. We also have a consoler with them. We thought it best given the situation."

'The situation? Oh god, do I stay here to be a good husband or go to Camp David to be a good father… what the hell do I do?!' wondered Chris. He wanted to do something, but couldn't make up his mind. Some people couldn't think what to do in moments like this, bit Chris couldn't think which was right. 'Where am I most needed?'

"The President is awake again, Mr. Crane. Would you like to see her?" asked a nurse.

"Yes, thank you," said Chris walking towards her.

Chris tried hard not to break down. There were bandages on her right leg from where two .45 caliber APCs struck her. A third had grazed her skull. The most critical wound was the one that had struck her at the base of her neck. According to the doctor that bullet lost most of its velocity after going clean through the Kosovar Foreign Minister and was not as lethal as it could have been.

'Not as lethal, but lethal enough to do this,' he thought bitterly. Her face was pale due to blood loss. One of the bullets had punctured the artery in her leg.

"Hi, Michelle," he whispered.

"Hi, Chris," she whispered back trying to move her hand for his, but failed. Chris recognized the gesture and took it.

"Does it hurt much?"

"Some, I asked that they lower the dosages. I don't need a morphine addiction scandal for my campaign."

"Damn you're the bravest person I ever met," he laughed. It was short laugh that only showed how scared he really was. The oxygen mask had been removed, but the tube up her noise was still in because she kept passing out and couldn't rely on her being awake for meals.

"I have to be. I am the leader of the free world… whatever the hell that means," she said wryly. "Where are Ellie and Jeff?"

"Camp David."

"Have you seen them?"

"Not yet."

"Chris, I'm not going to die. They need you more right now… and I need to rest. Tell Harold to not do anything rash."

"I'm sure he'll be here himself soon enough. Right now he's trying to make sure no wars break out over this," said Chris thinking about the poor Vice-President and the chaos he'll have to manage until Michelle was fit for office again.

"O… okay… I… nee-… to sleep," she said sleepily.

"I'll go to the kids then," he said. He squeezed her hand. "I love you."

She could only smile a little before her eyes closed.

* * *

**0900 Hours; February 19****th****, 2012; Joint Intelligence/Security Meeting, Undisclosed Location**

"Who the fuck is responsible!" thundered Vice-President Harold Craig Graham. They were in a large conference room full of men and women from every intelligence and security agency in the United States.

"Mr. Vice-President, what happened here was not a break down of intelligence," said Director Mark Shepherd of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA).

"Oh really?! We I don't there is any intelligence in this room!"

In their minds, the intelligence operators, officers, chiefs, and directors rolled their eyes. That was such an old overused joke it was cliché to them.

"Who was the person who wrote this report!" he demanded holding up the report on Viktor Pretrović.

"I did, sir," said the youngest person in the room. Graham was taken off guard that someone that looked to be a third of his age was in intelligence.

"You people are putting children in the job now?!"

"Sir, my name is Special Agent John Shinhachi. I am a Colonel in the United States Army and serve in counter-intelligence. I am a veteran of two wars… officially, and have led operations that would make your hair stand on end, sir."

"So you wrote this inadequate report?!"

"Yes, sir," Jack said simply. He wasn't intimidated by the Vice-President. So much the easier to keep his face stoic and devoid of feeling.

"This man nearly murdered the Commander-in-Chief!"

"Mr. Vice-President, I am a counter-intelligence officer. Pretrović was fired from military service in 1996 and his file was closed in 2003, five years before I'd officially the military. No one in Intelligence Community kept any updated information and I did not have time to check with our European allies."

"Mr. Vice-President, Special Agent Shinhachi was busy with other work. We did not consider Pretrović a threat and there was no evidence to say otherwise," said Director Nicolette Stiles, head of the Counter-Intelligence Field Activity (CIFA). "Besides, are you saying this is the fault of the military? We cannot officially operate in the United States."

The directors of the Department of Defense intelligence services: National Security Agency, Army Military Intelligence, Defense Intelligence Agency, Marine Corps Intelligence Activity, Office of Navy Intelligence, and Air Force Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance (FA or F2), nodded in agreement. The Federal Government couldn't point the figure at them. The National Reconnaissance Office (1) staff didn't even blink, they really didn't have anything to do with the security of President. They were primarily in charge of the US spy satellites like the KH-11 and KH-12, and the new KH-13.

"Mr. Vice-President, we are just as concerned about this as you are, but frankly the problem was not us. We knew Pretrović was in the area and he had plans to attack the Kosovars, but security did not intercept him," said FBI Director Franklin McLean.

"Mr. Vice-President, if I may speak I think-" started Jack.

"No you will not! If this is the best you people can do than I will leave and put out fires around DC before it spreads too far!" growled Vice-President Graham storming out of the room with his aides.

The Intelligence Community watched him leave, but did not get up.

"You were saying, Special Agent?" asked Director McLean.

"Pretrović was a highly skilled soldier, but not very imaginative. That was one of his problems in Kosovo. He couldn't plan good complex operations, but if given one he could carry them out to a 'T'," said Jack in a monotone.

"So they had outside help," concluded ONI Director, Admiral Edward Benedict.

"Great, we have a conspiracy on our hands," groaned INR Director Elizabeth Dingyan. Large scale conspiracies were rare for covert warfare because they were nearly impossible to conceal and logistically were too demanding, which only made them even harder to conceal.

"Shinhachi, you picked up two KGB agents that night, correct?" asked Assistant Director Gibbs, Jack's handler.

"Seventh and Eighth Directorate officers. We have them in isolation right now before we interrogate them."

"You got any names?" asked a section chief in the NSA.

"Some possible names and several aliases," said Jack dryly.

"Send them to us and will do background checks."

"If you want, I call my deputies to send the files," said Jack.

"A recon officer and a com officer in Soviet black ops in Washington the same day an assassination attempt happens… you all know how much I hate coincidences," said Director Shepard.

"Just playing devil's advocate here, but this is Washington DC, our capital, that we're talking about here. These two could have been doing anything from trying to steal our plans of continuity to make contact with an asset of theirs," said Director Stiles.

"True."

"Shinhachi, you know people in Europe personally, correct?" asked Director Stiles resting her chin on her clasped hands. She surveyed the emotionless face with her own equally expressionless one. She saw a professional agent, despite his age. Know wonder they recruited him so young.

"Yes, ma'am," nodded Jack. He looked back at his director. She never let on much, but she was sharp and had killer instincts that you had to have to hunt spies for a living.

"I want this done quietly, no indications to the Soviets or Chinese. Clear?" she asked. She spoke the last word with a coldness that made Jack feel just the fringes of fear.

"Ma'am," he nodded.

'Mm, a good soldier for a Delta Operator. Army taught him well,' she thought. "Who would you think would most likely know these men?"

"One of my deputies nearly captured this man in Afghanistan, but forced to leave him when the agent was ambushed by Spetsnaz. They were GRU Spetsnaz too."

"Red Army special action groups rescuing a rival from the political side? That's not normal. And they responded quickly enough to recover him before you agent could extract too," commented General Maxwell Dawson, Director of Army Military Intelligence (MI).

"Yes, General," said Jack with a note of Army discipline.

Jack was mostly kept out of the public eye by the intelligence community. They knew the media and public would disapprove of someone so young in covert warfare… or willing to put their faith in someone so young. Of course the Navy understood when they recruited the young Austrian-Swiss-American Teletha Testarossa (2) who commands a fleet ballistic missile/light aircraft submarine.

Dawson and Benedict could only imagine what people would say if they knew a 21-year-old had nuclear weapons in her care, or a 22-year-old held some of America's most intimate secrets. Even they didn't know the Jack had mastermind the assassination of General-Secretary of the People's Republic of China during the Korean War.

"So Afghanistan is our first lead?" asked Director McLean. "That's a little far out of my jurisdiction."

"The Seven guy use to operate around NATO bases on the Iron Curtain. GSG-9 stumbled on him by accident and he was burned (3). He was later seen trying to find our com stations and safehouses in Algeria. We never had much on him, but he seems to scout ahead for special action groups," said Jack.

There was dead silence.

"God damn," whispered Director Dingyan. She worked for the Department of State and she knew how bad this would look when she brought it to Secretary Spinoza.

"Everyone who does not have a level 9 clearance is to leave now," order Director Shepard. Even though he was not in charge by any stretch, the other directors didn't object.

"Who has read Blue Star's last letter? He said the KGB is up to something," said DIA Director, General Dennis Remarque.

"This could be an act of war," said Admiral Benedict. "They are stepping up on expanding the Red Navy and that parachute program too."

"My people haven't seen anything unusual. No sign the Reds are consolidating their troops and resources or any preparations for combat. There are signs and our birds would see them. If they try to move now we'd rip them apart," said General Mark Hitchcock, Director of F2.

"Well, Vice-President 'I'm-gonna'-rip-ya'-a-new-one' is probably in no condition or mood to listen to us right now," said Director Stiles.

"Secretary Spinoza should know now. If this is the Soviets doing, he'll need to act now. We can trust him to act rationally," said Director Dingyan.

"We might want to call NORAD (4)," said Director Remarque.

"I'll have to speak with Compass Six," said Jack. Jack was the intelligence/counter-intelligence chief for Task Force Compass Rose. They referred to the chiefs as Compass for short, such as Compass Six, Compass Five, etc.

"Tell him to sit on this for now. We don't need to start a shooting war over nothin'," said Director Dawson.

Jack left after another six hours of the meeting. He was driven to a small government airport and boarded a small C-37A Gulfstream V executive transport. He was alone on this flight. He could only imagine what getting home would be like. Everyone would put two-and-two together. The President was shot and he was gone hours later. The other students would dog him with questions he couldn't answer, his family would stare at him but not able to bring themselves to ask, and Emma would...

He sighed. Emma probably could guess what happened. She would probably guess that the politicians would rage at them and they would discuss what happened and start hunting for the people responsible.

* * *

**0903 Hours; February 19****th****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Reading the newspaper was not one of Kenji's usual habits, but he was scanning today's issue of Yomiuri-Shimbun, the most widely circulated paper in Japan. So far Kosovars were mourning the loss of their Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Americans were praying for the recovery of their President. But Kenji knew it was only a matter of time before rage exploded.

"Kenji, daijobu desu ka?" asked Yakumo seeing Kenji staring at the paper.

"Eh? Uh, hai. Daijobu desu yo," he assured her.

"Dame desu ka (is it bad)?" she asked him.

"Extremely," he groaned rubbing his eyes. "People will want to hold some responsible for this all. This could start a war… one I may have to fight."

Yakumo was impressed by Kenji's unusually good insight into the situation, but more alarmed by his statement. "Kenji, it's America. They didn't attack Japan."

"We're in NATO. They attack an ally and we may have to go fight someone for them."

"But… that's… they," she stuttered. Why did seem like the world was trying to take her boyfriend from her.

"I hate this. Last time I never saw it coming, but I kinda' knew who we would fight. Now I don't have a clue. I don't even know where Kosovo is. All I know is their foreign affairs guy was killed pretty soon their will want justice… or revenge," he grumbled to himself. He tried looking at a map, but he couldn't find it. What Kenji didn't know was the map he was looking at was 8-year-old and Kosovo was only 4.

"Then the Americans will want to know who nearly killed their leader," he continued.

Yakumo sighed deeply. She wondered if fate was conspiring against her.

Kenji went to his room and lay across his bedspread.

"_Well, Private Harima, you look pretty good to me. You may be using a cane for a little while though," said a doctor._

"_Arigato," said Kenji._

_They were in the ruins of Kaesŏng where a field hospital was set up. Many of the other soldiers were sent to MASHs for surgery._

"_I glad I saw the end this war," grinned Kenji._

"_Only the dead have seen the end of the war," said the doctor sadly._

"Only the dead have seen the end of the war," repeated Kenji. Although he didn't know it, it was a quote by the great philosopher Plato. Kenji understood what it meant. There was no end to conflict. It was sad really, but sometimes it was necessary evil. China and North Korea had attacked a country unjustly, attacked Japanese military ships, and then Japan was invaded. Sure, wars like Iraq and Vietnam didn't seem to have much any justification, but World War II and the second part of the Korean War had reason.

'Why does this bother me so much?' he asked himself. 'I knew I would be called again, but why does it bother me?'

'Because you don't know who or why, yet,' answered his subconscious.

'Is it the Soviets? I don't know anything about?' he thought.

'Sure you do. All those training excurses with the West are directed against the Soviets,' said his subconscious.

'Oh yeah. But what, I don't know how they're structured. It can't be the same as the PLA. And I don't know what Europe is like… accept from waking anime and movies. And where is Kosovo?' he asked.

'Hey, I just know what you know.'

Kenji sat up and went outside.

"Yakumo, I'll be back later. I'll meet you at the café," he called.

"Chotto mate (please, wait)," called Yakumo, but he was gone.

An hour later he was getting off a train in a sleepy suburb of the city of Hinata and walking towards the mountains. He crossed a long bridge, down several streets, and up a long flight of stone stairs.

"So, this is it," he said. He walked inside an old Japanese-style inn. He kicked off his shoes and looked for anyone.

"Is anyone home?!" he called.

"Hai," said a young girl with blue hair. She took one look at Kenji and shrieked. "Eeeeek! Burglar!"

'What? I thought my new look didn't make me look like a delinquent,' Kenji thought. His hair was pushed forward like Yakumo preferred. '… oh, the sunglasses.'

"Gomen, I'm looking for-"

"Die pervert!" yelled a woman unsheathing a katana. Kenji didn't pause. Instinct told him to attack first to protect himself and he charge the woman. He grabbed her wrist and twisted with all his might. He felt it break and the woman dropped her weapon howling in pain.

"I don't mean any harm," he said backing away. "I was looking for my superior."

"You're what," snarled the black hair woman.

"I am Private First Class Harima Kenji of 5th squad, 2nd platoon; Company E, 27th Infantry Battalion. I am looking for my platoon leader, First Lieutenant Urashima Keitaro."

"Someone called?" asked a man in his mid-20s. Urashima Keitaro was a man with grey eyes, brown hair, and a pleasant smile. He was clumsy but commanded enormous respect due to his kindness and caring attitude towards his soldiers. He was 27-years-old.

"Sir," said Kenji snapping to attention and saluting. Keitaro smile and returned the salute.

"Motoko-chan, what happened to your arm?" asked Keitaro a little alarmed.

"Ur, gomenasai, sir. She was going to attack me and I… well training… gomenasai," apologized Kenji.

"Where did you learn to defense herself?" asked Motoko. She was angry that this stranger had broken her wrist, but impressed by his skill.

"Years of getting into fights."

"So, you are one of Sempai's army friends?" asked the blue-haired girl.

"Hai… uh… nani desu ka (5)?"

"Oh, sumimasen. Watashi wa Maehara Shinobu desu. Yoroshiku," said Shinobu bowing.

"Harima Kenji desu," said Kenji bowing his head slightly.

"Aoyama Motoko desu," said Motoko stoically.

"So, PFC Harima, why do I owe the pleasure?" asked Keitaro.

"Lieutenant, the news about the American President and the Kosovar Foreign Minister, what will happen?" Kenji asked.

Keitaro's smile slipped away and was replaced by a frown. "Sit down, Harima."

They took seats across from each other at a coffee table.

"You know where Kosovo is?" asked Keitaro.

"Iē. I looked, but I haven't found it. I think the paper said it's in Europe."

"The Balkans. I'm not surprised you can't find it. The country is pretty new and it only on maps made since 2008. Have you heard of Serbia?"

"Hai, that's in Eastern Europe."

"Correct. Kosovo was once an autonomous province of Serbia, but they didn't like being ruled by them."

"Why?"

"The Serbs are a minority in Kosovo. Most are Albanian, but the Serb minority ruled the country, represented them in the Serbian capital of Belgrade, controlled the police, controlled the security forces, and owned pretty much all the major businesses. The Albanians didn't like and protested," said Keitaro darkly.

"What happened?" asked Shinobu who had taken a seat on the couch next to Motoko.

"They were beaten, harassed, and even killed. So the Kosovars went to armed rebellion. This was the early 1990s when Yugoslavia was falling apart and no one paid much attention to the Kosovars. Then the Serbian government started mass killings. The UN stepped in. In 1994 NATO invaded Kosovo and took control of its government with the promise of making it an independent country. 14 years later the Republic of Kosovo was born."

Keitaro placed a map on the table and pointed to the small country labeled Kosovo. It was wedged in between Serbia, Albania, Macedonia, and Montenegro.

"Have you seen pictures of Germany, France, and England?"

"Hai, sir."

"Well, the Balkans is nothing like them. This is the most violent, unstable, unpredictable place in Europe. Yugoslavia dominates most of it. The rest are NATO member states: Greece, Albania, and Kosovo."

"So, who would attack their Foreign Minister?"

"Most likely Serbians or people of Serb descent."

"And they are the enemy?" he asked.

"You see it coming too, ne? If it is anyone it would likely be the Yugoslavians. Russia has some interest in disrupting Kosovo's sovereignty, but not like this. Only Yugoslavia, especially Serbia would have reason to attack the Kosovar leaders. But that's only speculation, Harima. They are probably Serbs, but may not be acting on the Serbian Government's orders. Does that put you at ease?"

"I don't know," said Kenji.

"I can't put a face on the enemy, Harima. We may not go to war at all. Yugoslavia is not known for being rational by our standards, or Western ones for that matter," said Keitaro. He smiled and said, "You know what I think your problem is?"

"Nani?"

"You don't know anything beyond East Asia. China, Korea, they're different from us, but not as different as Europe, North America, South America, Africa, Australia, or even the west, south, central, and north Asia. Harima, have you ever been further away from Japan than Korea?"

Kenji shook his head. We couldn't have been more than a couple hundred kilometers from his home in Yagami. The furthest east he'd been was Sendai, and the furthest west he'd been was… either Seoul or Kaesŏng… he wasn't sure which was further. There was that class trip to England… but that turned out to not be England… and their was that cruise they took in high school, but he wasn't sure where he was and he never saw any foreign countries.

Russians, Serbians, Kosovars… they were abstract ideas in his mind. He didn't know who these people were. Was that what scared him? In the last war he fought an enemy that had similar ethnic, cultural, religious, and linguistic origins. The Chinese, Japanese, and Koreans were all very different people, but they also had a number of things in common that made them… familiar.

Now they were talking about a possible enemy that was tens-of-thousands of kilometers from Kanagawa Prefecture. As far as he knew the Nihonjin (Japanese people) had no connections Roshiajin (Russian people), Sēbiajin (Serbian people), or Yōroppajin (Europeans).

'Man kind fears the unknown more than anything,' he thought. It was quote from somewhere and he had used it in his manga. 'I fear what I don't know or understand.'

Kenji was on a west bound train that would make a stop in Yagami.

* * *

**1730 Hours; February 19****th****, 2012; Matsuri Restaurant, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

A tall handsome man with long black hair entered the Chinese food restaurant that many people frequented in the neighborhood. He was dressed in a black business suit with a scarlet tie. This had been an outfit bought by the man's wife while they were on vacation in London.

'Hisana does have good taste,' Kuchiki Byakuya thought to himself. The English-made suit was both comfortable and tended to impress Western clients. "Why must we eat so early, Rukia?"

"Ichigo needs to leave for training tonight," said Rukia who was helping her older sister, Hisana, into a chair. Hisana bore a strong resemblance to Rukia, but was taller and paler. She was not a well person due to a low white blood cell count and other problems with her immune system.

Ichigo ran into the restaurant shedding his coat and setting down his rucksack. He was dressed in a Federal Army B-Class semi-formal uniform.

"Sumimasen. Konbanwa, everyone," he said taking a seat next to Rukia.

"Konbanwa, Kurosaki-kun," greeted Hisana. She was fond of Ichigo… more so than Byakuya. Byakuya merely nodded at Ichigo before consulting the menu.

Byakuya occasionally looked up at the TV hanging over the bar that was turned to the news.

"We have confirmed the American President, Crane Michelle, is conscious and will make a full recovery. Amerikajin (American people), are celebrating this news. European leaders have personally visited President Crane at Walter Reed Army Hospital where she is currently recovering. Prime Minister Aokami has presented her with a Shinto charm of well-being and will be returning to Tokyo this weekend from his extended trip to the United States.

As for the attackers, it has been confirmed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation that the terrorists were from Serbia. The leader is was ex-Captain Viktor Pretrović of the Serbian Security Information Agency. He was assigned to maintaining control of the Kosovo capital Pristina. When Kosovo split from Serbia he and his subordinates were fired. The Kosovar President Alush Zharku has demanded from Yugoslavian President Ante Mikosvić an apology. EU and Soviet leaders are trying to mediate more peaceful talks between the two nations…"

"Komarimasita nee?" said Ichigo trying to strike up a conversation to please Rukia and get her stop glaring at him.

Byakuya looked at Ichigo for a second, saw the look on his wife's face, and nodded. "Ee, so desu."

They shared a look that said 'we might as well try to get along or these two will make our lives miserable'.

"The Army has decided to extend training to a full week," said Ichigo.

"NANI!!" Rukia shouted in his face.

"They announced it this morning," said Hiroyoshi walking over with a notepad to take orders. "And don't scream in the restaurant Kuchiki-san, you're disturbing the other patrons."

Indeed, several people were staring at Rukia who blushed and slid down in her seat.

"And now we know why, ne, Sgt. Asou?"

"Ee (yeah). It also explains the reason they're adding all those exercises and simulated combat drills," said Hiroyoshi. "So, what can I get you four tonight?"

After he left, Byakuya turned to face Ichigo.

"A doctor and soldier. A bit ironic, don't you think?"

"Byakuya, be nice," whispered Hisana.

"Ee, so desu nee," agreed Ichigo. "But people rely on me because I'm the closest thing to a medic in our platoon. For months I was patching up wounds and minor injuries."

"Aren't you in internal medicine?"

"Hai, but all doctors have to familiar with all areas of medicine. I have to spend time in a clinic and deal with setting bones and dealing with cuts from auto accidents. Me and this other guy already knew what to do because of the war…"

Ichigo went on to discuss his medical practice and Byakuya talked about his business. It looked like they were getting along, but they were merely tolerating each other for Rukia and Hisana.

The two men knew they would probably never like each other. Ichigo knew that if he wanted to continue his relationship with Rukia he would have to tolerate Byakuya and Byakuya knew if he wanted to be on speaking terms with wife or his sister-in-law he would have to accept Ichigo.

* * *

**1745 Hours; February 19****th****, 2012; El Café, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Yakumo and Tsukino found themselves awkwardly sitting across from each other in dead silence.

Tsukino was taken completely off guard by how beautiful Yakumo was. Yakumo too was taken off guard by how much Tsukino looked like Tenma, Kenji's first crush.

"So, Tsukamoto-san, how long have you known Harima-kun?" asked Tsukino, probing for information.

"About four years. I met him in my first year of high school," Yakumo said. She was trying to remain calm, something years of by Akira's apprentice had taught her to do even under duress.

"And how long have you been together?"

"Over a year now," Yakumo responded. She wanted to add some stinging comment, but to do so was so unlike her that nothing came to mind at the moment.

"Ever done it with him?"

"Eh?!"

"I thought not."

Yakumo sat staring down at her drink wringing her hands together. She was on the retreat and was losing control of the situation.

"We live together," Yakumo said in an offhand-ish sort of way. Tsukino glared at her and looked back indifferently. "It took me three years to get his attention. Girls much prettier than me never got his attention."

Still probing for information, Tsukino asked, "What do you do around the house?"

"Cleaning, cooking, and working as his manga assistant/business partner. Helping raise his little sister, Mai-chan," said Yakumo emphasizing how deeply rooted Kenji's life was in hers.

"Don't think you've won just because you got there first," said Tsukino nastily. "Once you're at the top you can only go down and people will be there to take your place in a heartbeat."

"I was his best and only friend for years. There isn't a person in the world he trusts as much as me. This isn't about winning or losing, Tsukino-san because this isn't a game. This is our lives you're trying to destroy. And if I have to I will destroy you first," Yakumo said coldly, her red eyes flashed dangerously.

"Sumimasen. I had to speak with an old friend," said Kenji as he entered the café. He took a seat next to Yakumo and looked politely at Tsukino. "So, did you two already take care of business?"

"Some," Yakumo answered knowing Kenji would never know the significance of that words context.

"Sorry, about leaving so suddenly, but I just needed to talk to my platoon leader. It's freaking me out that I might have to fight people on the other side of the Earth," explained Kenji. Yakumo and Tsukino stared at him and waited for him to continue.

"So, why Urashima-san?" asked Yakumo reminding Kenji he forgot to add the conclusion to his explanation.

"Well, he's been all over Europe and I thought he might know things about the Serbians and Kosovars. Like, where is Kosovo. But what it came down to was that I don't anything and so I fear it," he concluded with a grin.

Years of being around Kenji, Tenma, being highly intelligent, and Akira's apprentice had taught Yakumo to fill in the blanks. It was a matter of following Kenji's logic and thought processes.

"I see. Well, I'm glad you feel better," said Yakumo.

Tsukino looked totally lost. Yakumo merely gave her a polite smile.

* * *

**0759 Hours; December 9****th****, 1947; Unterschleissheim, 15 km north of Munich; Bavaria Staat, Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany)**

"This is Sally 10, looks like Ivan has taken to the trees," said 1st Lt. Landers seeing that the Soviets were hiding.

"Shit, flak," said Captain Braddock. Flak was really only referred to the anti-air guns used by the Germans, but became a generic term to refer to large caliber non-auto-cannon type AA-guns.

Large black puffs exploded around them. They were too few to be dangerous to the NATO pilots. Heavy single-shot AA-guns were meant for bombers flying at high and medium altitudes, not agile fighters that move much faster than the crews could reload. Still, an 85 mm shell from the 52-K would completely destroy fighters if they did hit.

Two P-47s swept through the AA battery and silenced the guns. This had been going on for a while, the Soviets would open fire from random positions and they would silence the guns.

"This is too easy," laughed a Thunderbolt pilot.

"Tell me about i-" started his wingman before being cut off in mid-sentence.

"Missy 11, Missy 12, I didn't copy that last one. Check your radio………… you guys there?"

"Fuck! MiGs!"

A squadron of MiG-3 had dived out of the clouds drifting across the skies at 5,000 ft. Although they lacked firepower, the MiGs were extremely cheap and therefore liked to attack in large groups.

"Kommunist MiGs. Clear the Vatarland's skies of them," ordered Major Feinberg. "Sieg Frei!"

The Messerschmitt Bf 109Gs that had been hovering above the clouds went into a dive. The 109s and the MiGs guns were positioned the same way. Two machine guns above the noise and a larger caliber gun on the noise. However, the Bf 109s used two MG 131 13 mm heavy machine guns and one MG 151/20 20 mm auto-cannon. The MiG-3s had two ShKAS 7.62x54 mm light machine guns and one USB 12.7x108 mm heavy machine gun.

"Die, you Russian scum!" shouted one of the pilots as he ripped the tail off a MiG with his 20 mm gun. The Germans spilt up into four flights of four, a formation they had invented and was adopted by the RAF and USAAF during the War in Europe, the name the West called World War II in Europe.

The Russians scattered and tried to climb to escape the better armed Luftwaffe pilots. This was a critical mistake for the young raw recruits who had never dogfight with real aces. The Russians failed to realize the American P-38s twin-engines gave them enormous power. With that power they increase their turning radius, but have better climbing rates and higher speeds.

"Sally 5, here. B Flight lets clip their wings," said B Flight leader of Sally Squadron. Four Lightenings gunned their engines and raced for 14 out of the 18 MiGs that had survived the German's ambush. Sally 5 pulled the trigger on his stick and unleashed a barrage of .50 cals on retreating planes.

They picked off the slowly planes. Sally 5 was about to finish off the remaining planes when he saw a group of black dots coming out of the clouds.

"MiGs?" he asked. Suddenly his cockpit exploded with glass and metal as it was raked by incoming fire from the attacking planes. He jinked left and dived. "Bastards... -groan-… argh!"

"Sally 5, keep your noise up. You're going to crash!" shouted Sally 1. It was too late. Sally 5's plane smashed into the trees and disappeared in a cloud of orange and red flame.

"This is Volga 1, looks like those conscripts couldn't hold their own," sighed a Red Air Force major.

"Comrade, they just graduated from their flight class," replied a captain.

"True… are those Messerschmitt fighters?"

"… I don't believe it. I thought we ran those Fascists shits out of our skies," cursed another captain.

"The Americans must be supplying them with fuel. Those Imperialists have no shame. Giving fuel to those monsters just because they're desperate," growled the major. "For the Rodina, comrades!"

"Krasniy Revoluytziye (Red Revolution)!" bellowed Volga Squadron. They flew at the NATO planes with their Yak-9UTs. These were late production versions of the Yak-9 series that made a range of 1070 km, one NS-23 23 mm auto-cannon, and two B-20 20mm auto-cannons, instead of the twin 12.7 mm heavy machine guns and one 20 mm auto-cannon. These Yaks were deadly, fast, agile, and heavily armed.

"Shit, all planes engage Ivan's planes," shouted Sally 1. 'The anti-air was a distraction until their fighters could get to us… cleaver… but we ain't going out yet.'

The Germans seemed to share this thought because they were circling the Soviet formation.

'One squadron of Soviet planes. Pilots appear to be experienced. They are fully armed expect for those rounds expended on that American captain. Those are upgraded Yak-9s with auto-cannons instead of machine guns. This is not good,' thought Major Feinberg. "Schnee Falke Staffel (White Hawk Squadron), do not attack from head on. We need to attack from their flanks."

The Germans were slowly curving towards the Russians, but they could not see the opening they were hoping for. They knew the Russians saw their approach and were ready to evade the Germans before they got within firing range.

Braddock saw what the Germans were doing and got an idea. He jammed his throttle to the full open position and climbed with Landers and his other two pilots following. Sally 11 and 12 hadn't been with their flight lead long enough to know what was happening, but knew enough to follow him and how to keep up. Landers on the other hand already saw the plan. They were going to arc above the Reds.

Braddock turned and rolled into a dive that would bring him behind the Yaks. The Russians split into three groups of six. One turned head on into the Germans, the middle turned to chase after some Thunderbolts that were harassing a company of T-34s, and the right group turned to charge at Braddock's flight.

The Germans spread out their formation into a wall formation. The Russians cursed. This would make it harder to engage the Germans because they were a larger group and weren't concentrated in one area.

"Bring your planes backs, mien staffel. Kommand is putting their faith in us by giving us the fuel we are using today," reminded Major Feinberg. Luftwaffe Ost Kommand (Air Force East Command) had consolidated the little gasoline they had. They even put up posters in cities asking for civilians to donate gas in return for money from the Bundesregierung (Federal Government). They also added in was for a new and better Germany that would make amends for the war and if they didn't the German people would probably find themselves being called the Deutsche Sowjet Sozialistischen Republik (German Soviet Socialist Republic). They were flying on the hopes and prayers of the young Bundesrepublik

They saw small flashes and the Germans took immediate evasive action before the short bursts of cannon fire reached them. The Russians and Germans passed each other. They sent glares showing their total distaste for the other. The Soviets could not and would not forgive the Germans for their betrayal in 1941, all the Soviets they had killed, and their cruelty in the Great Patriotic War. The Germans hated Communists to begin with and they feared the Russians would want revenge. The Germans also knew that if they couldn't be an independent country, the future would be better placed in the hands of the British and Americans… but not the French who shared the Russians thirst for revenge.

'But that want for revenge caused the war,' thought Feinberg. Germany had been so poor with no hope for livelihood that Hitler took over with ease. That was why the British and Americans wanted the most control over Germany. They had planned to keep Germany happy and stable with leaders the West trusted. It didn't make the formerly occupied nations happy, but in the long run Germany would prove to be one of most powerful allies the Americans would ever have… after the British of course.

Braddock blasted away at the Yaks before they came out of their turn and could open fire. He saw debris fly off the noise of the flight lead and guessed he tore off the prop. The Soviet pilot apparently decided it was a good time to bail out because he pried the canopy open and jumped (6). In 1947 pilots had to jump out their planes manually, but it was a step up from World War I when pilots were even given parachutes.

Braddock pulled his plane into a high yo-yo to roll right over the Soviet fighters. The Russians looked up but couldn't follow the much faster Americans.

"Volga 1 to Volga 2. We're outnumbered and divided. Is Myedved Squadron coming to back us up?"

"Nyet, Comrade Major. They were jumped by Mustang fighters."

The Major sighed. He wanted to make the Germans pay dearly for daring to return to the skies that will belong to the Rodina and the workers of the world. But as a squadron leader his men came first. He'd lost five planes and spent most of his munitions. That was the drawback of the Yak-9UT. Its large heavy cartridges meant there were less of them. His planes tended to run out of rounds much more quickly than their Western counterparts.

"Ivan is heading home," said Sally 1.

"Yeah and were need gas in our birds," said one of the Thunderbolt pilots.

"Ja. Fuel is worth more than our planes," said Major Feinberg.

Three P-47s were lost and one P-38. The Germans took no losses, but used up more fuel than they had planned. They would not be able to send out a full squadron again for a while.

* * *

**0830 Hours; February 20****th****, 2012; Executive Assembly Building, Belgrade; City of Belgrade District, Socialist Republic of Serbia; Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia**

(Conversations in this section are in Serbian)

"This is a disaster beyond anything that could have happened!" thundered Ivica Ručan, President of the Socialist Republic of Croatia, one of the six nations that made up the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY). The whole nation included the Socialist Republic of Serbia, the Socialist Republic of Croatia, the Socialist Republic of Bosnia & Herzegovina, the Socialist Republic of Slovenia, the Socialist Republic of Montenegro, the and Socialist Republic of Macedonia. There was also the Socialist Autonomous Province of Vojvodina, which was part of Serbia. Kosovo was also once an autonomous province of Serbia.

"I must agree with Comrade Ručan," said Obrad Maglajlija, President of Bosnia & Herzegovina. "So tell me, Comrade Čolaković, is there any truth to the Americans statement?"

Osam Čolaković. President of Serbia, glared at the Bosnian. Like most Serbs, Čolaković considered himself superior to other Slavic races, such as the Croatians, Poles, Albanians, and Bosnians. They could not however openly claim they were better than the Russians, the mostly well armed of all the Slavic nations.

"Pretrović was indeed in our service during the breakup. He was released from service after his failure to prevent the Socialist Autonomous Province of Kosovo from seceding from Great Serbia."

"If Serbia was so great than why did they stop the breakup of Yugoslavia in the first place?" asked Momčilo Dalis, President of Montenegro.

"The real question is what we do now," said Ante Mikosvić, President of Yugoslavia. "This is an outrageous lie to slander the good name of the Glorious Yugoslavia. This is the West's attempt to insult us. They may even use this to justify an invasion of our union. You remember September 11?"

The incidents that followed the al-Qaeda terrorist attacks on the United States would probably be never forgotten for decades. The Americans still were feeling the effects of their disastrous invasion Iraq and a hollow victory of sorts in Afghanistan. The Presidents and Ministers that led Yugoslavia reflected the real and scary reality before them. Whether the Americans were lying to justify regime change or really believed Yugoslavia was behind the attacks, the bottom line meant American troops would invade.

"They haven't actually accused us. Only the counter-revolutionaries," reasoned Andrej Celje, President of Slovenia, hopefully.

Mikosvić sighed, "As much as I would like to be positive, we must plan for the worst."

There was a long silence and then the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Marko Uzunović, said, "We have to strike first, don't we? Use Kosovo as a buffer zone between us and Serbia to defense our nation from the West."

NATO would attack from Albania. There were two ways into Yugoslavia: one was invading up along the coast of Adriatic Sea or along Skadarsko Jezero Lake in Montenegro. Second was storming out of Kosovo Toplica or Ibar Rivers into central Serbia. Mountains along most of the borders made it nearly impossible to invade anywhere else unless you were using light infantry that were trained in mountain combat. There was a third option to invade out of the Kentriki Province of northern Greece following a highway that was parallel to the Vardar River into Macedonia.

Kosovo would be the shortest route to the SFRY capital of Belgrade and the weakest area of the defense. The Montenegrin-Albanian border was heavily protected and the Vardar River route was 400 km, nearly three times the distance to Belgrade from the Kosovo border.

"Da," said Mikosvić. "We must assert our power to the West, but we must be smart about it. First we must convince the Germans and Americans to pull out of Kosovo. Next we must find a way to keep them from returning to the Balkans."

"This will take time, Comrade President," said Minister Uzunović.

"We would need Soviet backing for war with NATO," said Minister of Defense Nikola Marinković. "For the initial stages we could fight. NATO relies too much on their navies and air forces. Kosovo is too far inland for their navies to be effective and we have many surface-to-air missiles. We know the mountains and valleys much better than those Western invaders."

"Da, da. Surely even the West must concede that Kosovo is rightfully our sovereign territory," said Serbian President Čolaković. "We may not even need those Soviet bastards to assist us."

"Comrade, let's not get carried away," said Marinković. "The American Army is very powerful. So are the Germans, English, French, and Turks. Comrade President Mikosvić wants us to strike Kosovo and use it to protect the heartland of Yugoslavia."

"You mean protect Serbia. Croatia is a short plane ride from Italy. What's to stop NATO planes from bombing my country into oblivion?" asked Croatian President Ručan dryly.

"Our Air Defense Force will destroy any NATO planes that attempt to attack. The Coastal Artillery Force will also keep NATO navies from trying to land on our western coast. Besides, didn't we show that the American Air Force isn't invulnerable? We did destroy even some of their stealth planes," said Čolaković. "Surely the great People's Army can destroy NATO small contingent in Kosovo."

Four years of little violence. Yugoslavia's return was making the West, and Soviet Union, think stability was returning to the Balkans… or as close to stability as the region ever got. Intelligence suggested that NATO intended to reduce their numbers to a couple of regiments.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will emerge from this crisis stronger and greater than before. For now we will make quiet preparations for the worst case scenario. If the West makes no aggression against us, than we will find other means to end the Kosovo counter-revolution," said Mikosvić rising from his seat. "Good-day to you all."

* * *

**0900 Hours; February 20****th****, 2012; Shinhachi Compound, Kirkland; Washington State, United States of America**

(Conversations in this section are in English)

Jack was sitting behind his desk in his office on the third floor of his home.

"Jack, daijobu?" asked Emma approaching him carefully. He looked like he was on the verge of an emotional explosion. "Hey, talk to me. Bitte."

"I've been trying very hard and I can't think of one," he said quietly.

"_Was_ (what)?"

"A worse week than this one."

"I can't-"

"I look into Gin's cousin's case and then get roped into an investigation on an ex-Serbian intelligence officer who assassinates the Kosovar Foreign Minister and shoots the President of the United States… oh god the irony," Jack groans. He talked very fast in a way that impressed Emma who could speed-talk in the way all women seemed to have mastered.

"Then, I get chewed out by the Vice-President and if it wasn't for the fact that he was starting to insult the Intelligence Community I would have been the scapegoat. Now they want to me to all but waterboard these two goons-" he stopped immediately in the middle of his sentence.

"Onkel (Uncle) Klaus said you have KGB agents in custody," said Emma.

"Klaus Bitteman, MAD?" asked Jack.

"Ja."

"How does German military counter-intelligence know that?" asked Jack.

"Russians aren't the only ones who spy on America. Deutschland like the rest of Europe doesn't rely on our leaders to tell them everything," Emma said.

Jack stared at Emma for a long time. "Emma?"

"Ja?"

"Do you work for the Germans? Are you an agent in BND or MAD?" asked Jack naming the German's government intelligence service and military CI respectfully. He wondered that for a long time now. Emma did do a lot of traveling between Germany, Belgium, Canada, England, Japan, and the US. It was for manga work. Canada and America was the major North American markets. England and Germany were the major European markets. Japan was the birthplace of manga. Belgium was one of the rising markets in Europe. She would visit relatives too. But she was also going to places where he knew the Germans had major safehouses, bases of operations, and com stations.

She only smiled a little.

Jack shook his head. "You're a courier."

She nodded.

It was perfect. Emma was from a family that owned one of the largest weapons companies in the world. If she was carrying weapons related items she could claim they were company related items. She worked for a Japanese-based manga producing company to expand North American and European markets. This meant she traveled a lot. The only flaw was she had family and friends in German and American intelligence.

"How long?"

"Longer than you've been an agent," she said. "By the way, mien onkel is curious to know who you work for. He says you can't be CIA or FBI since you're cover is an Army officer."

"Shows what they know," laughed Jack. "They're right about CIA and FBI, but I am an Army colonel. As for the rest, if they can't guess and that means the Soviets haven't yet."

'She never appeared on any watch list,' thought Jack. Delivering messages and documents for an ally wasn't a big concern to the US and they were often ignored, but they usually ID'd them. Emma went unnoticed for at least almost six years… assuming she knew when Jack unofficially started his training as an agent.

"Emma, can you do me a favor?"

"Maybe," she said uncertainly.

Jack wrote out a note and stuffed it in an envelope. "You're going to New York for the Anime Expo next week, right?"

"Ja."

"Take this to the BND's office in the German Consulate in New York. Have it passed onto Anna Wörner."

That name rang a bell in Emma's head, but she couldn't place it.

"Fine," she said. She paused and than asked, "What did you mean by irony?"

Jack snickered. It was no wonder Emma never did well in history. He went over to his bookshelf. On it were a large collection of books. First shelf contained books about religion such as the Bible, the Koran, the Vedas, Books of Confucius, and a series of other religious books and analytical texts too. Below it were social movement books like Communist Manifesto. This also included books by Che Guevara, Mao Zedong, Josef Stalin, Martin Luther King Jr., Nikita Kruschev, Winston Churchill, Heinrich Himmler, and Adolf Hitler. These last two books Mein Kampf and Zweites Buch, Hilter's over-glorified autobiography and his future plans for world domination respectively, Emma found offensive and more than once she considered burning them while Jack was asleep. Below those hateful books were a series of military textbooks, some written by Jack himself, and many more history books. He pulled out one labeled: Moments that Changes History Forever.

"His name was Gavrilo Princip. Almost no one knows his name even though he changed the entire course of the 20th Century," said Jack pulling the book off the shelf.

"Who was he?"

"A Bosnian-Serb born in Obljaj, Bosnia on July 25th, 1894. When he was young he joined a group of Serb revolutionaries."

Jack opened the book to one of its last few chapters. It was labeled: Chapter 37 One Man, Two Shots, A World Explodes. He was a small unimpressive looking man with short dark curly hair. He had a small pointed mustache that was in style in those days and stereotypically worn by French waiters.

"On June 28th, 1918 in Sarajevo he made history."

"What did he do? I've honestly have never heard of him," said Emma getting annoyed and wondering what this had to do with her question. Though, Jack liked to talk in this round about ways. She wondered if he was famous… or if he was another one of those obscure people Jack knew about.

"He shot Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie. Princip started World War I which led to the Russian Revolution, the fall of Germany and rise of the Nazis, the division of the Ottoman Empire and formation of the Middle East as we know it, and the events that would led to World War II, Korean, Vietnam, and the Cold War. The little bastard changed the world… no he basically made the world as we know it," he said leaning back in his office chair.

"Why would you mention this guy?"

"A Serb started World War I. That indirectly let to World War II. A bunch of Serbs have attacked Kosovar leaders and our President. We don't know what will happen next."

Jack lay in the futon he now shared with his fiancée. He was waiting for his sleep-medication to put him under. Emma was sound asleep. Last weekend his big concern was Emma dragging him to a party and now his concern that Serb terrorists were about to start World War III. Inevitably the Soviet Union would become involved. Penovaski may be friendly, but no Russian would tolerate NATO operations in Eastern Europe without they say.

He scooted closer to Emma's sleeping form. He kept forgetting that she smaller than him, though he wasn't a large man to begin with. Jack was tall for Japanese man, but thin and light. He would have to start eating extra to pass his next physical. He was barely 142 lbs and he would have to gain 8 lbs before the middle of March.

* * *

**1945 Hours; February 19****th****, 2012; #187 East Bound Express, Sagami-gawa Line; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

The train was filled with rush hour traffic ranging from students coming from cram school to businessmen and women heading home. Kenji and Haruki were standing in their Army uniforms with their right hands clutching the leather loop hanging from the horizontal bar.

There were a few girls in high school uniforms pointing at them and giggling. When Kenji and Haruki looked at them they blushed and tried to look busy with their notes.

"So you know what the schedule is?" asked Kenji.

Ever the responsible one, Haruki had checked the training schedule. "We'll spend the first day in lectures by Captain Hitsugaya and possibly Colonel Daijin. That will be on the basic tactics and our military. Next Lieutenant Urashima and an America from the US European Command will be lecturing us on the Soviet and Yugoslavian militaries, mainly the ground forces.

"Then will be doing physical exercises. The day after that will be weapons drills. Then will be doing a lot of simulated battles, but they want to leave those as surprises."

Kenji nodded. "We are coming back at the end of the drills, right? They aren't shipping us off somewhere?"

"Hope not. Mikoto would kill me," said Haruki with a shudder.

"Oi, she'd kill me first for not bringing you back. So it's me you should really worry about," said Kenji poking Haruki in the chest. They laughed and continued to talk on the train ride to Hinata.

* * *

**1416 Hours; February 19****th****, 2012; Kremlin, Moscow; Moscow Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic**

(Conversations in this section are in Russian unless underlined)

"Comrade Ministers, please be seated," said Foreign Affairs Candidate, Anatoly Sergeyevich Kalyayev.

"Comrade Candidate Kalyayev, why is it that you have called an emergency meeting of the Politburo and not your Minister?" asked the Transportation Minister, Viktor Pavelrovich Krivitsky.

"Comrade Minister Menzhinsky is… in dispose right now," said Kalyayev carefully. Truthfully his minister was in a drunken stupor in his home. "I was left in charge for now and an urgent situation has risen in the Balkans."

"The Kosovars are accusing the Yukes, aren't they?" asked Minister of Health Hatya Molotov Pelshe.

"Da, Comrade Health Minster," said Kalyayev with a courteous nod. The Politburo had always wondered if Kalyayev was trying to take the job of Minister of Foreign Affairs, but to ask that would be to ignore the fact he was really the one running the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

"The Kosovars wouldn't never take it to the armed conflict stage, they are too weak," scoffed the Minister of Propaganda Lev Andreiyevich Voroshilov.

"My concern is NATO. The American President was shot. Their Vice President is enraged and blames us for some reason, Comrade Ministers. There is also talk of investigating Yugoslavia. The Yugoslavian Foreign Minister says his country is making plans for the 'worst case scenario' as he called it. They are convinced America will go to war against them."

"The Americans wouldn't attack an ally of ours or a sovereign nation to protect a non-sovereign nation," argued Voroshilov.

"Comrade Propaganda Minister, the West has attacked Yugoslavia in the past and, unlike us, they consider Kosovo to be a sovereign nation independent of Yugoslavian rule," explained Kalyayev.

"There is no reason for the Americans to attack," said General-Secretary Penovaski.

"Comrade General-Secretary, as much as I agree with you, the Yugoslavians do not possess our rational thinking. They are using the American 2001 Invasion of Afghanistan as an example. They fear that the Americans will invade because the terrorists were of Serbian origin."

"But that is ridiculous!" barked Minister of Defense Anatoly Pavelovich Nergetov. "That was different. The terrorists' leaders were in Afghanistan. In this case the terrorists' leader was killed last I heard. It sounds to me that they are using this as an excuse to justify training their troops and deploying them under the guise of defense and use them to retake Kosovo."

"That seems likely, Comrade Defense Minister."

"Perhaps we may want to consider stepping up our military training cycles," suggested Minister of State Security Nikolai Semyonovich Nevsky. "NATO and the Jugoslavenska Narodna Armija (Yugoslav People's Army; JNA) will probably not seek military action until spring or summer. Perhaps the Red Army could be used a deterrent to prevent war from breaking out, da?"

Nergetov looked suspiciously at Nevsky for a while before nodding slowly. "Da. I called Southwestern HQ, if the Defense Committee thinks it's appropriate."

"All in favor," said Penovaski. The Defense Committee only consisted of the Ministers of Defense, State Security, Interior, and the General-Secretary. Nergetov, Nevsky, and Minister of Interior Vladimir Eduardovich Alekseyev raised their hands.

"I guess there is no need to see who is opposed. Very well. We will reconvene tomorrow morning," said Penovaski.

Nergetov opened the door and walked past a blank-face guard with short dark-brown hair. "I'll tell Budapest. Comrade Chekotropev, we'll need proper diesel and jet fuel supplies. We have enough for training, but not for any crises that may breakout."

"Comrade State Security Minister, a moment please," said Kalyayev.

"Da, Anatoly Sergeyevich?" asked Nevsky looking politely at the younger man.

"The American Ambassador was very upset. He said the Vice President informed him that they took custody of two spies shortly before the attacks and within meters of the ambush sites. Should there be anything I should know before meeting with him again?" asked Kalyayev with a raised eyebrow.

Nevsky smiled widely, but Kalyayev showed no fear. "Nyet, Comrade. Nothing you need to know."

"But-"

"It is as the Imperialists say. 'It is a need-to-know basis'," said Nevsky. He left before Kalyayev could speak another word.

"Imperialists? It's 2012 you archaic bastard. The Rodina barely survived the 90s," cursed Kalyayev.

"Some people don't like to let go of the past, Comrade Candidate," said the guard. Kalyayev jumped. He forgotten he wasn't alone. He looked at the guard and nodded.

"Da, Comrade Lieutenant," he said. He'd seen this guard many times, but couldn't recall his name. Only that he was part of the Kremlin Guards.

"But I agree with you, Comrade Candidate. We must look to a future with the West. The Revolution cannot survive on our ideals any more. We must evolve or perish. That is Darwin's Law."

The Lieutenant Junior had a quiet voice that sounded like a hiss. Kalyayev wondered if it was from disuse. Surely these soldiers rarely had chances to speak since they were supposed to remain silent.

"If you are trying to get a promotion you should speak with the Defense Minister," said Kalyayev with an understanding smile.

"Nyet. You said something that I agreed with and wanted to make myself heard. An individual has a right to speak every now and than."

"Sadly, Comrade, that is where the West has us beat. Well, da svee-dah-nyah (good-bye)."

As Kalyayev walked away he realized he forgotten to ask for the Lieutenant's name. He seemed unusually smart in political and social doctrines for a young officer. Kalyayev now wondered what he would say to the Americans who would be even more pissed.

* * *

Now ends another chapter. I think this is pretty self-explanatory. The next chapter will center mostly around the trainings routines and cycles of NATO, the Red Army, and the Yugoslav People's Army. Ya'll see the differences between NATO and Soviet militaries. Also I plan on touching upon this theme of unfamiliarity between the Soviet Union and Japan. In my last story Japan fought against North Korea and China, countries that share similar origins with Japan. Japan and the USSR do not share a lot in common. This will be clearer over time as I add chapters.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. The National Reconnaissance Officer (NRO) is in charge of most of the US's spy satellites. Officially they are part of the Department of Defense, but from what I gather they seem to be part of the United States Air Force. It would make the most sense since satellites fall under the Air Force's jurisdiction. NRO also commands the U2 and retired SR-71 recon planes. The NRO works very closely with the CIA, NSA, DIA, NORAD, ONI, and US Strategic Missile Command.

2. According to information I've found on the web, Teletha Testarossa, fictional captain of the Tuatha de Danaan, is of Swiss-Austrian descent. Of course her family name sounds Italian. It is noted she is from the northeastern United States, a region called New England which incorporates the states of Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. Some speculate she is from Boston.

3. Burned is a phrase used by intelligence for people whose covers are blown. It does not have any negative connotation. It just means a person is exposed and therefore in grave danger.

4. NORAD, or North American Aerospace Defense Command, is a joint US-Canadian early warning command and control structure founded in 1958. NORAD's HQ is located at Cheyenne Mountain Operations Center, Colorado, also known as Cheyenne Mountain for short. It's purpose is to detect threats from air and space to the United States and Canada.

5. One of the hardest things about the Japanese language is context. Sentences can have radically different meanings depending on how they are used in a conversation. For instance 'Tokyo desu' could mean 'he is in Tokyo' or 'it is from Tokyo' or 'it is Tokyo' or 'it is named Tokyo' and so on. In this case we have Kenji asking 'nani desu ka' which means what, but in this context he is asking for a name.

6. In 1947 ejection seats were kind of a sci-fi movie idea. People knew it could done and it sounded like a good idea, but both the Soviets and NATO thought they were too expensive. It wasn't until about the early 1960s when ejection seats would be common place. Of course those weren't useable if you were too low. About a decade ago they installed seats that could be used even if the plane was on the ground, incase a pilot had to eject while take-off or landing.


	7. Chapter 7: In Case of the Worst

Okay, I'm making steady progress in spite of my schoolwork

Okay, I'm making steady progress in spite of my schoolwork. I have Japanese and Asian History to prepare for, but I'm on top of it. I'm not sure how many Katakana characters there are, but it's around 100. Now we're learning Hiragana. I hate Hiragana because it is so much harder to write than Katakana.

I am swamped with school work and it took a lot of effort to just finish this chapter. I don't have time to proofread it because I need to sleep.

I also watched the series: Welcome to the NHK. Or in Japanese: NHK ni Yōkoso. Then I read the manga. They both have their good points but the manga is more detailed and I think develops the main characters much better. Welcome to the NHK is about an unemployed college-dropout named Satō Tatsuhiro. He has lived in seclusion for four years and now suffers from a number of anti-social disorders in addition to what look like paranoia. He has hallucinations and is moderately mentally ill. The female protagonist is Nakahara Misaki, a high school dropout, who appears innocent enough initially. In the manga it becomes very clear she is just as or sicker than Tatsuhiro. She suffers from borderline personality disorders. The plot is that Misaki claims she can save Tatsuhiro from his life of seclusion and integrate him into sociality. In reality her plan is to make him dependent on her and he own lover/slave/prisoner. It has a happy ending… of sorts.

Welcome to the NHK is a comedy-drama. It is pretty realistic in that it isn't a stereotypical boy-meets-girl plot, but really shows a realistic life of people. It hits home the negative and harsh reality of life, especially the otaku (and online gamers like those who are addicted to World of Warcraft). It talks about mental disorders, isolation, drugs, suicide, the bitter side of relationships, and the people who have trouble surviving in the fast-paced Japanese society.

I don't own any trademarked or copywrite item. Please leave a review and/or tell a friend.

* * *

**Chapter 7: In Case of the Worst**

"Hope for the best, but plan for the worst."

A quote from the Bourne Ultimatum

**0630 Hours; February 20****th****, 2012; Camp Hinata Army Base, Hinata; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Kenji was standing in front of a mirror. He was shaving. Yakumo preferred him without the beard that had been his trademark and even his nickname for years. He wondered if Yakumo considered his beard a sign of devotion to Tenma, the reason he grew it in the first place. While not gifted with great insight, Kenji was somewhat aware of needs and feelings of the people around him. While he was often wrong, he tried to do what was needed which people considered his most enduring quality.

He walked out of the men's bathroom and back to his barrack. He was only dressed in a white T-shirt, blue pants with a yellow stripe up the side, and white socks. Once he entered his assigned barrack he rummaged for his uniform. He pulled on a white button shirt and put on a black tie. He attached the ribbons which denoted his medals and awards. He pinned on his badges for expert marksmanship, combat action badge, and air assault badge. This was the Federal Army B-Class uniform. For the winter they added a black cardigan and a dark-blue wool winter coat that fell past the knees. The final piece was a black beret with the gold Chrysanthemum.

The Imperial Seal was one of the few things that enabled people to tell the different between the US Army and Japanese Army uniforms.

Next to him was Pvt. Fujiwara Fiona, Japanese-Irish girl born in Tokyo. She was securing the black four-in-hand tie issued to female soldiers. "These skirts are pretty clever design. Mobile and practical and warm."

Of course, the military skirts were not flattering, but Fiona decided she could live with that. Her high school uniform was freezing.

"I see. That is good," said Kenji. After more than a year he was starting to pick up a slight American accent. They walked to the main lecture hall with the rest of 5th squad.

Asou Hiroyoshi walked out in front since he was the squad leader. He was up for consideration for promotion to Sergeant First Class, the rank above Staff Sergeant.

Behind him was Yamako Ichiro an ex-gunner on a CH-47 and current rifleman, Toyotomi Katase the squad's radio-op, and Ishida Uryū a sharpshooter. Then there was the assault team led by Ikuro Miyu, Kurosaki Ichigo a rifleman/unofficial-medic, Abarai Renji a grenadier, and Fujiwara Fiano a rifleman. Then there was fire team led by Hanai Haruki, Harima Kenji a rifleman/support gunner, Kitsumori Kazu a light machine gunner, and Jupei Miho a grenadier. Finally was the engineer team led by Amakasu Noriyori, Mori Ina a saber/squad's mom, and Tsutsui Junkei a light machine gunner. The engineer team was short a man. Shibata Keiji never returned to 5th squad after the war.

They filed into Lecture Hall C where Company E was assigned for the current time slot.

"Be seated and be silent," barked a short white-hair man with a captain's insignia.

"Okay, first things first," said Captain Hitsugaya Tōshirō once he descended the tiers to the podium. It looked much like a college lecture hall with rows of tiers making a semi-circle that face the podium. Behind the podium was dry-erase board with two additional boards that could be raised and lowered. There was also a projection screen that could be lowered if needed.

"There are a lot of rumors we are going to be deployed to Europe after this training cycle. We'll we are not. Since the People's Liberation Army and Korean People's Army do not present any immediate threat. So unless we want to train to fight our fellow NATO allies, we will train using the Soviet Union's Armed Forces as our model. This is for no political reasons, but merely because their weapons and variations of them are used by most countries that have been… less than friendly with Nihon," said Captain Hitsugaya carefully. As an officer, he had to say certain things, though everyone knew the Soviets were the traditional enemy of NATO.

"Okay, first we will look at Europe," said Hitsugaya pulling out a NATO tactics handbook that was translated into Nihongo. He knew what he would have to say, but the textbook was for reference. "Europe can be divided into West, South, North, East, Central, and Southeast. Generally we consider West, South, and Central Europe to we Western Europe, and East and Southeast as Eastern Europe. The North is considered it's own area.

Western Europe, with a few exceptions, is made up of NATO member states. Eastern Europe Blocs are mostly members of the Soviet Union with the exceptions of the Southeast. Most of those countries belong to the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, but a few are part of NATO."

They soldiers of Echo Company were taking notes, accept the officers. 3rd platoon's CO was transferred to North Group in Hokkaido where certain branches of the military trained in the open, sparsely populated island, such as the Armor Corps, Artillery Corps, and Ordinance Disposal Corps. 1st Lieutenant Rangiku was fast asleep at a table on Captain Hitsugaya's right. Captain Hitsugaya was ignoring her. 2nd Lieutenant Urashima was absent, but since he had actually been to these places his presences wasn't as important.

Hitsugaya prepared himself for the main subject of his lecture. Europe, how it was different from Japan and Korea, and how this would affect their tactics.

"Most of Europe is temperate climate. In other words, it's not too different from Kanto District that we are currently in. Countries like France, Holland, Belgium, Poland, and other countries like them are mostly flat, or at least compared to Japan. Most of you are veterans of the Korean War. In Japan, we know the middle areas of the islands are mountainous, the coasts are flat, and the rest are hilly. In Korea, we saw pretty much the same geography, but some deserts and plains in valleys.

Europe has a lot more rivers that are navigable by ships or boats than our nation, such as the Rhine, Seine, and Danube Rivers. These rivers are wider and deeper than some of ours. This will make long advances and retreats difficult. In a number of European wars we have seen bridges crossing these rivers play curial roles.

Next are the mountains. These mountains cover a lot of the central parts from west to east from the French-Spanish border to Greece. This roughly follows a fault-line that runs around the Mediterranean region.

North of the Alps, the mountains that stretch from southeast France to Austria, are a series of step hills and low mountains that much up a lot of Germany. Once you get to the land near the Baltic Sea near Hamburg and Berlin the terrain is mostly flat.

So what does this all mean, and what the hell does this have to do with combat you may ask," said Hitsugaya in a bored tone. "Well, on the bright side they don't get typhoons. Most of Europe doesn't get tsunamis or earthquakes. Italy, Spain, Greece, and Turkey do however. On the other hand, it rains a lot more. Their winters tend to be harsher and in places they can be longer. Our enemies last time were the mountains and dense urban areas. Europe is bigger. There are a lot of forests."

Hitsugaya lectured them on the terrain and conditions. Already Kenji was translating these into real life terms.

"There is a lot of fertile soil and soft ground. Good for digging trenches, but not as protective because it can be blown apart easier. The ground absorbs water pretty well so in winter it can freeze pretty hard. The worst is rain. It produces mud and lots of it. Trenches become saggy and can fall apart if they aren't properly supports by walls. Tanks can become stuck and so can every other vehicle. A lot of Europe is rural and they may not be paved roads… there may not even be roads in some places. This is particularly true in the Balkans."

The thing was that Japan didn't have rural zones nearly as large as Europe.

"The German-Polish border is fairly flat with a number of hills. Most of the area around the border, or Iron Curtain, is rural. It is not a popular place to live since it is the line that divides NATO and the Soviet Union. The further south you go the more mountainous it becomes. For these reasons, most generals have thought a land battle between NATO and the Soviet Union would be on the German-Polish border. It is also why most of their front line defenses are there and few people want to live there."

After hours of lecturing, they braked for lunch.

They returned to the hall for the second half of the lectures.

"Konnichiwa, I am Lt. Colonel Wayne Ian," said a Western-looking man in a US Army uniform. "Today I will be talking to you about our good friend Ivan, or the Soviets as you probably know them. Someone lower the projector screen, onegaishimasu."

The screen was lowered and the lights dimmed. Lt. Colonel Wayne turned on a laptop. On the screen appeared pictures several Westerners in green, grey, khaki, and brown colored uniforms.

"This is the Soviet Red Army, folks. Their uniform is usually a grassy green-khaki uniform. In winter they usually wear long grey overcoats. Many Soviet soldiers are transitioning to a disruptive-style camouflage. You folks use flecktarn camouflage that uses a series of small dots. My military uses digital camouflage that is a series of small squares that form subtle patterns like flecktarn. Disruptive camouflage is like a series of brush strokes usually in combinations of four or two colors. Four-color for woodlands and two-color for desert and winter."

He put up an image of soldiers in disruptive camouflage.

"On the top are Red Army infantry woodland, desert, and winter combat wear in that order. Below are British Royal Army infantry. The Brits wear disruptive camouflage, soldiers. Get a good look them and remember the difference. You don't want to be shooting our allies."

Kenji stared at the soldiers on the screen. The British uniforms were slightly different shades from the Soviets. The helmets were also a different shape which was probably a better way of recognizing them since color could be too hard to distinguish at a distance. The British also had very different looking guns from the Russians.

"First question, who knows the standard rifle of the Red Army?" asked Wayne.

Kenji raised his hand.

"Hai, private?"

"Sir, AK-74m."

"Very good. The AK-74 was introduced in 1974 to replace the aging AKM, an upgraded version of the AK-47. The thing are will learn about the Soviets are that they hate to replaced things like we do. They share about half the parts the AKM and AK-47 use. The main difference is the cartridges. With the AK-74 was introduced the 5.45x39 mm round that replaced the 7.62x39 mm they used before. The M74 cartridge is an evil little thing. It is steel-jacketed and is designed to tumble inside a human body so it has the penetrating power of steel ammo and the killing power of hollow-tips. The AK-74m that was introduced in 1991 by Izhmash State Weapons Factory, the primary maker of the Kalashnikovs, can mount a GP-25 or GP-30 40 mm grenade launcher. They have a flash suppresser like most guns and unlike the original model they can mount noise-suppressers. Unlike NATO guns, the Kalashnikovs were generally not meant to have scopes mounted on them, but they are a possibility.

Another version of the AK-74 is the AKS-74. The AKS-74 has a triangular side-folding stock and is used by the Soviet Naval Infantry and Airborne Troops.

Some of the elite units however get the new AN-94 or AK-107. The AN-94 is better, but more expensive than the Soviets normally like so it will probably not be their standard rifle. More likely the AK-107 will be the successor but the Soviets will probably not replace their AK-74ms after only 21 years of service.

Next is the RPK, the standard LMG of the Red Army. RPK, not to confused with the RGP, is a 7.62x39 mm fed from a 40-round banana clip like on an assault rifle, or a 75-round drum mag. Then there is the RPK-74 which fired the 5.45x39 mm rounds, but they only fire 30 or 40-rounds mags. Both guns are based on the Kalashnikov rifles and were designed by Mikhail Kalashnikov. The infantry and motor-rifles use the RPK. Air assault units normally use the RPKS and it has a side-folding stock. In fact any Russian gun with an 'S' at the end has a folding stock. Any gun with a 'M' at the ends of its name is an upgraded version of the original model. If it has a 'U' it is a carbine version. The RPK-74 is usually used by light assault units, border guards, and special forces because of their lighter weight. The same reasons we use the M249 SAW and FN Minimi. The RPK is preferred for regular infantry because of its firepower.

Another gun is the PKM which fires the heavier 7.62x54 mm rounds. It's fed from a 100 to 250 round belt and like the M240 and M60 it can be mounted on a tripod. Soviet squads usually have at least one soldier with a PKM and two with a RPK. You'll also see them on UAZs, Urals, various APCs, and it is usually the coaxial gun on tanks.

This is TOZ-194 pump-action and Saiga-12 semi-auto shotguns. Shotguns aren't as common in the Soviet Army as they are in NATO. The TOZ-194 is tubular-feed shotgun like most pump-action guns and fires seven 12 gauge rounds. The Saiga-12 fires 8 rounds from a box mag. Although the Soviets like to press close quarters, they prefer automatic weapons and shotguns aren't quite as popular which many of us consider… odd.

These are the RDG-5, RGN, and RGO hand grenades. All these grenades have a time delay of 3 to 4 seconds. Remember that Soviet manufactures are not known for quality so if you are forced to use Ivan's shit don't expect it to work right, cause Ivan sure doesn't. It's like the M67, you pull the pin and chuck it.

This is the 9K310 Igla-1, known in NATO as the SA-16 Gimlet, and this is the 9kK38 Igla, known in NATO as the SA-18 Grouse. These are the successors to the 9K34 Strela-3, or SA-14 Gremlin, and 9K32 Strela-2, or SA-7 Grail. They are the Soviets shoulder-launched SAM, just like our Stinger or your Type 91. The Russians models are heavier than ours by at least 3 kg and their missiles are heavier too, but only by about 0.7 kg. They use magnetic, grazing, and delayed impact type fuses, we only use delay impact types. The Soviet missiles have 200 to 400 meters longer range, but ours are faster and more agile. The KPA uses the SA-16 so I think you are already familiar with them.

This is the infamous RPG-7, standard issue anti-tank weapon to most militaries in the world. They have a range of 920 m and a muzzle velocity of 115 m/s. RPGs are not accurate weapons since their projectiles don't travel through a barrel. But they are much lighter and cheaper than any other AT-weapon available. Every Soviet infantry squad carries at least 2 of these and sometimes they may have as many as 12. This is the RPG-29. It's not used by a lot of nations because it has a shorter range. However the RPG-29 has a muzzle velocity of 280 m/s. There are rumors this weapon has penetrated the front armor of the mighty British Challenger 2 heavy tanks. There are confirmed reports these things have damaged Abram tanks. This is a rarer weapon in the Red Army, but something you soldiers will have to watch out for.

This is PMM, Makarov PM, or the PM, standard issue sidearm to the Red Army. Ivan doesn't care as much about handguns as we do so it is inferior to our M1911A1s, USP 45s, and Browning Hi-Powers. The PMM fires eight 9x18 mm rounds and has an effective range of 50 m. Even thought there is only a one millimeter difference in length, their cartridges are unusable in the weapons that use the 9x19 mm parabellum.

This is the SVD Dragunov semi-auto sniper rifle. It fires ten 7.62x54 mm rounds. The Soviets have designed it to have low recoils so their snipers can make quick follow through shots. Snipers and sharpshooters use these guns and there is probably one sharpshooter in every infantry company. This is the SV-98 bolt-action rifle which is only used by Soviet snipers. The Reds also have a list of .50 cal rifles, but their rare. The SVD and SV098 are the common ones."

Lt. Colonel Wayne took a sip from a glass of water on the podium. He changed the images to show vehicles and armor.

"We've covered pretty much all the Soviet small arms. Now for their vehicles and tanks.

This is the BMP-2 and BMP-3, core of the Soviet mechanized infantry corps, or motor-rifles as they call them. The BMP-2 has a 30 mm auto-cannon and the BMP-3 has a 30 mm auto-cannon and 100 mm gun. They have a PKT, the tank version of the PKM, in the coaxial position and anti-air position. They have a driver, gunner, and commander, plus a compartment for seven soldiers. The BMP-3 is much better armor, has a road speed of 72 km/h, and top off-road speed of 45 km/h. The BMP-2 has a top road speed of 65 km/h and top off-road speed of 45 km/h. The BMP-3 is 4 tons heavier than the BMP-2. Both model are amphibious, but Russians don't really trust this feature and therefore avoid using it in the water.

Then there is the BTR-80 and BTR-90 APCs. They are wheeled armor personnel carriers like our Strykers. The BTR-80 have the 14.5 mm machine guns and a PKT coaxial guns. The BTR-90 uses the 30 mm auto-cannon and a PKT coaxial gun. Like the BMPs they may have AT-4 or AT-5 ATGM (anti-tank guided-missile).

This is the T-72, the primary medium tank if the Red Army with the aging T-62. It has a 125 mm main gun, PKT coaxial machine gun, and a DShK 1938/46 or NSVT 12.7x108 mm anti-air machine gun. Their fast and light and often supporting motor-rifle battalions. The T-62 has a similar armament, but has a 115 mm gun and a DShK AA machine gun. Pretty much all Soviet tanks have the same guns as the T-72s. Older tanks average a top road speed of 55 km/h and off-road speed of 43 km/h.

A Soviet motor-rifle battalion will probably have two rifle companies and one armor company, at the least. A Soviet squad has 18 soldiers divided into teams of three, but the Soviets do not put much emphasis one squad based tactics like we do. More important to the Soviet style of warfare is the platoon and company. A platoon has about 54 soldiers plus a lieutenant. A company has 162 enlisted soldiers with three lieutenants, one captain, and a political officer.

A Soviet battalion assault will come in two forms. One is an infantry recon in which they pick a company and split up its platoons, sometimes squads, and spread them out to look for the enemy. Once the enemy is found they bring in the other rifle company. If that isn't enough they bring in the tank company. This is a common search-and-destroy formation and one the Reds used a lot during their Invasion of Afghanistan- you have a question corporal?"

"Hai, sir," said Ikuro standing up. "Do the Soviet recon elements have the support of APCs and IFVs?"

"A very good question, Corporal. Commonly the scouting elements would use UAZs or Urals, but if they expect heavy resistance they will use armored vehicles. The reinforcements will probably come in BMPs or BTRs.

The other would be an assault formation. This is when they know where the enemy is located. They would bring in the tank company first with the rifle companies behind in a blitzkrieg style attack. In fact these attacks may start with rocket-artillery, mortars, and/or howitzers, followed by fighter-bombers and helicopters.

The important thing you'll learn about Soviet Military Doctrine is that they fight to overwhelm. All their equipment is designed to be cheaper so they can field more of them or their equipment is designed to fire more munitions or fire faster.

A tank troop unit is more heavily armed. They will have the support have the T-80U and T-90, recent models of Soviet heavy tanks. These are heavy assault battalions that are trained to punch through the front lines or heavily defended areas. A tank troop battalion mostly consists of tank companies, but may have a few heavy assault rifle platoons. They usually operate in support of rifle and motor-rifle units.

Helicopter troop units are heliborne infantry. These guys often spearhead assaults or try to flank enemy lines. They are transported by Mi-8 or Mi-17 Hips with Mi-24 Hinds in support. Sometimes they have Mi-28 Havocs, but only elite units get them. Since the Hind and Hip bare some resemblance, they stick in close groups to make it hard to ID them from a distance. They commonly sweep in from a higher altitude, the Hinds make an attack run, and then the Hips will deploy their soldiers and pull out. In some cases they may have Mi-26 Halos to deploy BMD IFVs, an airborne troop version of the BMP series.

Then there are the parachute troop units. Paratroopers are the Soviets equivalent of our Marine Corps. Soviet paratroopers land to seize bridges, supply depots, fuel depots, major road ways, com stations, radar stations, and other sites to make the main body's assault easier. The Red Army Airborne Troops usually get the best weapons like the AN-94 or AK-107. Some of their elite parachute units have received prototype digital camouflage the Soviets are testing with a number of other things. Recently, Ivan has tested heavy-weight parachutes to deploy their armor. We are expecting that in the future the Soviets will be making changes to their offensive style of warfare. So far the main theory is that paratroopers may become a substitute for marines in the Soviet Armed Forces.

Next is the Zampolits. Zampolits are not actually soldiers. They are members of the KGB Third Directorate, a special division of the KGB trained to oversee the military. Every Red Army company has one Zampolit. Battalion, regiment, division, corps, and army commanders all have Zampolits assigned to them. The Communist Party doesn't trust their armed forces and their use the Zampolits to ensure there is no mutiny or uprising from the military. However, the Armed Forces hate the Zampolits. Zampolits tend to be an inconvenience to military commanders because they tend to 'request' things they aren't militarily sound… or practical. They wear brown uniforms making them distinguishable from regular soldiers. They often discourage soldiers from retreating, so killing them may encourage the enemy to retreat… or it could free them up to fight better.

NCOs in the Red Armed Forces are pretty much the equivalent of a corporal in our military. They have limited command and don't fill many duties. Lieutenants fill in most of the roles that Sergeants, Staff Sergeants, and Sergeant First Classes do. Captains function more like a lieutenant in our military.

Like so many other things, this can be traced back to World War II and the Wehrmacht, but first we have to go back farther. Division of units into as a fighting force with a large degree of autonomy appears in modern warfare with the Napoleonic Wars. For a long time units smaller than company didn't play much importance. Captains were actually the lowest ranking soldier on the field with any appreciative authority. Lieutenants really only served their company COs. Sergeants were normally just highly experienced enlisted soldiers that bridged the gap between officers and enlisted soldiers.

This progressed into World War I.

In 1939 when World War II started, things changed. Germany was looking at ideas for making more efficient use of infantry with their mobile-style of warfare. They decided that a company was too large as the basic maneuvering unit. This gave rise to platoon and squad leaders.

The Feldwebers storming out of Germany and into Poland are the forefathers of NATO squad-based tactics. However, back then the German squad was not like the ones today. A company would have a machine gun squad and an assault squad, as opposed to just having these teams within the squad. An MG squad had an NCO, five riflemen, and a three-man MG team. Then there was an assault squad that had an NCO and eight soldiers mostly armed with sub-machine guns. Although the unit is larger, the idea was the same and it revolutionized infantry tactics. Infantry tactics had a lot more depth and were more adaptive to the vicious modern battlefield which older Napoleonic Warfare didn't adapt too.

The British saw how well these tactics worked for the German. So did my country. The Brits used basically the same formations as Jerry did. We however formed a ten-man squad, similar to the sixteen-man squad you see today. You had an assault team, fire team, and a special team such as an MG or AT team. This put an even greater emphasis on the NCOs than in the UK or Germany. We take pride in the fact that we produce the finest, most well trained NCOs in the world.

For reasons best known to them, the Soviets didn't adopt squad-based tactics. The squad is our primary basic-maneuvering unit. The platoon is the Soviets basic-maneuvering unit. In teams of authority and role, a Soviet Sergeant is equal to a NATO Corporal and a Soviet Lieutenant is equal to a NATO Sergeant."

* * *

**0900 Hours; February 20****th****, 2012; Southeast Group Headquarters, Budapest; Budapest Oblast, Hungarian Soviet Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic**

(Conversations are in Russian in this section)

"Dobroye ootra (good morning), Comrades," said Colonel Vasily Eduardovich Nomonov, one of the senior instructors in the Southeast Command.

"Dobroye ootra, Comrade Colonel!" shouted the junior Soviet officers standing at attention.

"Today we will continue our lectures on NATO nations," said Nomonov. "We have covered this week Belgium, Holland, Denmark, and Turkey. So today we cover the Federation of Japan."

"Comrade Colonel, that nation of barbarians is surely not worth our time," laughed a captain. Several officers laughed too.

"Barbarians? Comrade Captain, are you familiar with the Battle of Tsushima?" asked Colonel Nomonov with a raised eyebrow.

"Da, but-"

"Those barbarians wiped out nearly the entire Russian Navy. They may have been fighting for the Czarists, but they were Russians and many who survived fought in the Revolution. Comrades, you are thinking of this old samurai system of Japan. You forget they are probably the most technological advance nation in the world!" shouted Nomonov banging his fist on the podium he was standing behind.

There was silence.

"Comrade Colonel, the Japanese still worship a monarch. I hardly think that that is the mark of a modern nation," remarked a KGB major.

"Spa-see-ba, Cromade Zampolit," said Nomonov dryly. "The Japanese Federal Armed Forces structure themselves after the United States Armed Forces. Their uniforms look almost identical. Like the British, they are an island nation and center a lot of their military focus on their naval forces. Japan possesses a huge surface fleet and numerous submarine squadrons."

He shuffled his notes and read, "The Japanese soldiers all bear the mark of their Emperor to show their loyalty to their backward Imperialist system."

This was something someone from the Party had written and thought it would be best said, but Nomonov though it was taking away from the facts about the Japanese military.

"This is a picture of the Type 89, standard issue assault rifle to the Japanese military. It uses the NATO standard 5.52x45 mm cartridge. It's most unique feature is that it has two triggers to fire two different fire modes. This is the USP 45 that was made standard issue sidearm to the Japanese during the Korean War…"

Nomonov continued to list the Japanese small arms.

"The Japanese make large use of mobile and light assault rifle units due to their islands. When their nation was invaded they refined many tactics," he turned and began to write on the chalkboard behind him. "As a result the Japanese became skilled at island-hoping, amphibious assaults, helicopter assaults, airborne assaults, rapid rifle company assaults, mountain combat, and, most of all, urban combat."

"Comrade Colonel, wouldn't that put them a disadvantage against us? Over here a nation that depends on their navy would not survive well. Also we don't have mountains or dense urban zones like East Asia," raised a young senior lieutenant.

"A good point, Comrade Lieutenant. The Japanese are not use to wide open spaces that we see in Europe and mainland Asia. But the Japanese have proven to be quick at adapting to new environments. This military was formed in the middle of a war after all.

Now common themes of Japanese military doctrine is discipline. The Japanese have grown up in their Imperialist society and find it very natural to obey orders without much question," said Nomonov who wondered in the back of his mind: who wrote this? He did agree the Japanese were discipline soldiers, but not why. "They like surprise attacks and using combined arms tactics with helicopters and artillery. They generally use small numbers of tanks supports by rifle companies. This is comes from their experience in urban and mountain combat."

He shuffled his notes again.

"The Japanese lack the numbers that we have, but make up for it with high technology weapons. With their large military-industrial complex they have some deadly weapons we normally only see in the American, British, or German militaries.

The Japanese do not have any experience with the mighty Red Army. The closest they have experience is fighting those poor Maoist-Communist in the People's Liberation Army. Since the Japanese are very similar to the American, British, and German militaries we already know how they fight for the most part," said Nomonov who once again questioned who wrote these notes. The Japanese in inexperienced and the amateurs could be unpredictable. Professionals all tended to follow the same norms, but amateurs don't know the norms. If they don't know its not possible they may inadvertently make it possible.

"Let me be frank, Comrades. Japanese soldiers, as told by our Chinese comrades, are determined and creative soldiers. They don't beat their heads against walls but find ways around them or weaknesses in them. They like to make their soldiers well informed and highly trained. Do not underestimate them because that will be a weakness they will exploit, if we find ourselves at war with NATO one day."

* * *

**1000 Hours; February 22****nd****, 2012; Camp Hinata Federal Army Base, Hinata; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

"Okay numbers 13, 47, 23, 24, 98, 181, 54, 19, 88, and 137 please proceed to the fire range!" shouted an instructor.

Kenji shuffled his way up a hill to the rifle range. The rifle range was for rifles and machine guns. It was situated on top of a hill overlooking a wide open space. Targets were located down a gentle slop. The furthest was 400 m and the closest was 75 m.

Kenji looked around him. For the weapons drills they selected soldiers at random and sent them up for 're-familiarity' with their weapons. To his left was a nervous looking girl who was fumbling with a Type 89 assault rifle and to his right was an overly eager looking boy playing with his rifle. Kenji wasn't sure which one was more likely to accidentally shoot someone.

"Ano, Harima-sempai?" asked the girl reading Kenji's nametag.

"This is the Army, Private, not high school. You can call me Kenji or Harima, take you pick," said Kenji.

"Hai, Harima. Am I holding this right?" she asked.

"… is there a reason you're holding the stock against stomach?" asked Kenji.

"Eh?! Sumimasen," she apologized.

"Iē, it'll only hurt you if you do it that way. Put the butt against your shoulder for accuracy and next to your hip for rapid firing," he said demonstrating the correct postures with the Type 89. They all had to qualify with the standard issue rifle and then he would do it again with his primary weapon.

"Sounds like you know what you're doing, buddy. Damn this thing feels awesome. Fuck, I wish I had been old enough to join during the war," said the boy on Kenji's right with a loving look at his rifle.

"He's starting to scare me," said the girl.

"That's okay, he's scaring me too," said Kenji. He was wondering if the Army had lowered the psychological evaluation exams.

"Real soldiers don't scare," said the boy.

"You've never been shot at kid, have you?" asked Kenji. The girl looked at Kenji and noticed he was at least 20… old enough to be a…

"Ano… were you in… it?" she whispered.

"It's not a secret, Private," he said popping a 30-round clip in the rifle upon the instructor's command.

"I'm Pvt. Hayasuka Yukari. I joined during the summer," she said as she loaded her gun and waited for the command to open.

"Why? You don't seem like the soldier type," commented Kenji.

"The Government was offering pretty good deals for college. I got into Tokyo University, but couldn't pay for it. The Army said they would pay for four years of university in return for four years of service... I can't believe I'm missing a week of class," she groaned.

"Commence firing!" ordered the instructor.

Targets appeared at the 200 m point. With ease Kenji shot up the wooden target, removed the empty clip, and leaned the empty rifle against his thin. Hayasuka was haven't problems. She hit the target enough time to pass… but just barely. The nut on Kenji's right was yelling and laughing as he fired, but he was moving too much to accurately hit anything.

"Kami-sama! You're gonna' kill someone, baka!" shouted Kenji.

"That's the idea," said the boy smugly.

Kenji brought his fist on top of his head and knocked him to the ground. "To kill the enemy, not us!"

"You asshole I'll-"

He froze when he saw Hayasuka was aiming her rifle at his heart. She was trembling and looked scared beyond belief. "He's right. He was in the war. You need to learn to handle your gun responsibly, Somizu-kun. Or else…"

He looked at her gun, gave Kenji a dirty glare, and walked off grumbling to get his score.

"He's not too bright is he?"

"Ee, he's a war-nut, but he'll back down when you make matters clear," said Hayasuka.

"Actually I was referring to the fact he backed off even though the gun you were aiming wasn't loaded," said Kenji pushing the muzzle of Hayasuka's gun down.

They walked down the hill to get their scores. "I'm a terrible shot."

"You're afraid of your gun. You tense up because of the recoil and bang. My advice, shoot the gun until you're use to the noise and recoil. You think one gun is bad, just wait until you hear a hundred of them plus jet engines and heavy artillery."

"Arigato, Sempai," said Hayasuka bowing and walking off.

"These new recruits," said Haruki shaking his head and walking up to Kenji. "Looks like some of them will be rotated into our battalion."

"These kids will not survive their first battle. We weren't this bad, ne?" asked Kenji.

"Maybe," shrugged Haruki.

"Well, I'm getting my M14 and head for round two."

Two hours later, the same people that were with Kenji before were up for their primary weapons drills. Hayasuka was clutching, to Kenji's surprise, an M14E3 automatic rifle. He looked her up and down. She was around Yakumo's height, but she looked like weighted about the same as Tenma. He knew now why she was afraid of the recoil because the gun was oversized for her.

"Fire until I'm use to it?" she asked.

"Uh… fire it in short bursts. The original models were semi-auto, so they weren't meant to be an automatic weapon," he said loading his rifle. Somizu the trigger-happy-psycho was loading an M4A1 carbine. "In my experience this gun has long reach. You'll either make accurate single shots to pick off the enemy or long bursts to suppress the enemy. It's a terrifying gun to on the receiving end. Other than an MG nothing makes the enemy run for cover like the M14."

"Fire when ready!" shouted the instructor.

Kenji fired at the 250 m targets and before he was even halfway through his mag he had blown the target in half. He spent the rest of his mag on demolishing the remainder of the target. He watched Hayasuka try to control her weapon on full auto like Kenji, but her lack of body weight and muscles made it hard for her. An SMG or carbine would have been a much better choice. Still, if she worked out more she probably be fine.

* * *

**1347 Hours; February 23****rd****, 2012; Maneuvering Ground #8, Budapest; Budapest Oblast, Hungarian Soviet Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic**

"Comrade General, what do you think of this regiment? I think they are the best," said Major Sergei Paveloyevich Troskimov, a Zampolit.

'You mean their officers suck up to you and are 'good Party men',' thought Colonel-General Mikhail Makhailrovich Bondarenko, commander of the Soviet Southwest Group. "They are passable, Comrade Zampolit. They complete the drill fast enough, but they're too sloppy in their approach. If that had been a German tank troop regiment they would have lost half their regiment. I want the 217th to do it again."

"Da, Comrade General," said a warrant officer with a radio.

"Comrade Bondarenko, I think you may be pushing them too hard."

"Or maybe you're worried about the fact there is the son of a senior Central Committee member in one of those tanks I wonder?" asked Bondarenko bitterly. "If we go to war do you want him to die in his first battle? Comrade Troskimov, more than half that regiment would be lost and therefore there is a 50-50 chance he'd be dead."

"Who says we are going to war?" asked Troskimov laughing.

"Since when are we ordered to commence mock-battles this time of year?" asked Bondarenko dryly. It was a very unusual order and Bondarenko thought that maybe war wasn't too far fetch. The Balkans were known for being out of control and violent. His command included operations in Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Ukraine, the Balkans, Albania, Greece, and the European sector of Turkey.

"NATO will notice this," said Bondarenko.

"They've haven't yet, but I agree that they will notice. NATO looks for patterns in our training cycles, or so says my friends in the First Directorate," said Troskimov. "If they see so much as a company doing something out of place they will be alerted."

Bondarenko frowned. Troskimov as Zampolits went wasn't too bad. He tried to be helpful, but it was obvious his loyalty was to the Party and his priority was Party Doctrine. "So what do you think our Western comrades will do when they see three guards motor-rifle divisions conducting full military exercises, and two tank troop divisions and two helicopter troop divisions in moderate training?"

"We'll find out soon enough, Comrade General."

The 217th Guards Motor-Rifle Regiment lined up for the exercise again. BM-21 self-propelled rocket-artillery fired a brief barrage. In an actually battle there would have a company of BM-21s, or Grids as the West called them, but the Soviets didn't want to waste munitions on a mere training exercise. A squadron of Mi-24Ds swept low over a forest on the 'Germans' left flank to avoid being spotted.

"If there are soldiers with Stingers in those trees those Krokodil (1) will never make it to the enemy lines," commented Bondarenko.

The mock enemy formation consisted of old T-55s. There was a computer inside that got them to fire at random. The 217th was armed with live munitions, but the enemy was armed with paint rounds.

"Those BMPs are too far forward. They should be following the armor platoons, not bypassing them. Who is in charge of them?" groaned Bondarenko.

A captain looked through a pair of binoculars at the mentioned company of infantry fighting vehicles. "That is Company F, Comrade General. I have the lists of officers here."

The aide handed the roster over and Bondarenko consulted it. "If he doesn't improve by the end of this week I want him replaced."

"Da, Comrade General," said the captain saluting.

Bondarenko was not impressed by the end of the exercise. The T-72s were trying to clash in direct battle with the enemy. Had they been real Bundeswehr Leopard 6A2, or worse yet Royal Army Challenger 2s or US Army M1A2 Abrams, they would have been annihilated. Only T-80s and T-90s were designed for that kind of battle. The Soviet T-72, which was far superior to the export models, were good tanks but would fair better if they used their speed and agility.

"They should have tried to flank the enemy. When they came under fire they should have deployed a smokescreen. The infantry should have dismounted so they wouldn't be slaughtered with their carriers!" Bondarenko voice grew louder with each sentence and it was not with joy.

"The 220th Guards Motor-Rifle Regiment is next, Comrade General," said Troskimov encouragingly. "Colonel Zanovich is turning out to be a fine officer."

"Da," said Bondarenko in a better mood. Elena Boskikov Zanovich was a rising star in the Red Army. She was the highest rank woman in a combat command. She was tall and powerfully built. Most men found her intimating and despite sexist attitudes, she commanded respect from her subordinates. Male officers objects at being under a woman's command, but now they were her most loyal supporters. The Party wanted to make her into an example for other women to follow, but she was more interested in her military career.

"She may be seeking your job, Comrade General," laughed Troskimov.

Bondarenko laughed with a bark. "I'm an old soldier, Comrade Zampolit. I will retire in a few years and if she is not Marshal of the Armed Forces, she can have my job."

The 220th was better armed than the 217th. They were a frontal assault regiment and had more heavy armor.

They watched as a T-80UK, a command version of the T-80U, led a group in an attack. They were split up into three groups and utilized the terrain so that the enemy couldn't see there were three companies advancing on them.

"She has trained her battalion commanders well," observed Troskimov.

"Da, but where are the rest?"

"I can't tell."

The 220th had fired their smoke dischargers at random creating a fog. It was possible to see through in some places but not in others. It made her presence known, but it was impossible to tell how many Soviets there were.

"Comrade General, Comrade Colonel Zanovich reports she has defeated the enemy and taken prisoners," said the warrant officer manning the radio.

Troskimov and Bondarenko were speechless.

"… well… the 220th can enjoy the next 48 hours on leave," said a stunned Bondarenko.

* * *

**1245 Hours; February 23****rd****, 2012; Camp Hinata Federal Army Base, Hinata; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

"Okay, we have a T intersection here. On the northwest corner is a three story building. On the southwest corner is a police station. At the head of the intersection is a church with bell tower. We have residential homes all along the streets," said Colonel Daijin Shiori, commander of the 81st Heliborne/Mechanized Infantry Regiment.

"Squad 5 of Company E will rope in by this barn southwest of the intersection and secure an LZ. Platoon 2 of Company F will then land at LZ Alpha. You're to breach and clear these houses Alpha-North, Bravo-North, Echo-West, Foxtrot-West, and Golf-West, and make sure there are no anti-tank weapon on the south side of the east-west street and the west side of the north-south street. You then send the signal and Platoon 3 of Company F to advance and secure the church, Rally Point Bravo. This will be used as a new forward HQ for the 27th Infantry Battalion. You'll have support from an AH-64DJ, callsign Red Moss 3-1. Clear?"

"Hai, ma'am!" responded the assembled soldiers.

Foxglove Company was made up of almost entirely of raw recruits since most of their company was wiped out during the Kaesŏng Campaign. Most were about 18 or 19. They varied between looking so nervous they might wet themselves or looking so eager that playing with the safeties on their guns. The ones with a look of detached indifference were the veterans and some of the recruits were smart enough to imitate the veterans.

Kenji walked over to the UH-60J Black Hawk with his squad. He pulled on a protective mask similar to one worn during paintball games. The Japanese use chalk rounds like most modern armies. They could be loaded into any real gun and were non-lethal, but soldiers wear masks to protect their faces. Chalk moving at several meters-per-second could literally take out an eye.

An instructor checked all of 5th squad's clips to make sure no live munitions in place and to make sure the grenades were dummy ones and not live M67s.

The engineer team got in the back row with the UH-60J. In the next row was the fire team. Sitting behind the pilot and co-pilot facing back was the assault team. In the doorways was the command team with two soldiers in each door. When the green light was given the command team would rope to the ground followed by the assault team. The fire team would go next and the engineer team would go last.

A fully armed squad should be able to dismount a UH-60, and its variations, in 12 seconds. 5th squad was able to do it in 10.92 seconds. If they were under fire they could move even faster.

2nd Platoon; F Company, was a little disorganized in mounting their choppers.

"This is Haitatsu 1-1, we are outbound and proceeding to LZ Alpha," said Major Yanagisawa Tomokazu, commander of 17th Utility Helicopter Squadron and pilot of Haitatsu 1-1.

Hiroyoshi sat with his legs dangling out of the door. The idea was that when the ropes were released he could slide right out the door down the rope and to the ground. He had the goggles pulled over his eyes to prevent things flying into them. At his hip was his rifle.

"ETA 30 seconds! Stand ready!" shouted the co-pilot. The red light above the doors came on to signal they were going soon.

"Squad, secure you're weapons and make sure your safeties are on!" shouted Hiroyoshi. Kenji checked his M6 bayonet at his hip, a KA-BAR (2) attached to his ankle, and Kampfmesser 2000 strapped to his left arm for easy access. He made sure his Colt 45 was secured in its holster and his M14E3 to his pack.

"Rope! Hayaku (hurry)! Haraku!" shouted the co-pilot as the green light came on. If they didn't see the green light a buzzer alerted them too and on instinct the command team slid out the door and fast-roped down.

He moved quickly to a pile of lumber for protection… and because in a few second the assault team would crush him as they roped down if he wasn't out of the way.

"Echo 5-1 is on the ground," said Asou.

"5-2, checking in," said Ishida.

"5-3, standing by," said Toyotomi.

"5-4, ready," said Yamako.

The assault team landed and moved behind a tool shed where they were out of sight from the buildings.

"5-5, ready," said Ikuro.

"5-6, ready," said Fujiwara.

"5-7, standing by," said Kurosaki.

"5-8, ready," said Abarai.

The fire team touched down and took up position in a ditch that was being dug for a water-main. It was deep enough to serve as a trench.

"5-9, reporting in," said Hanai.

"5-10, waiting on orders," said Harima.

"5-11, locked and loaded," said Kitsumori.

"5-12, checking in," said Jupei.

The engineer team landed and joined the fire team in the ditch.

"5-13, in position," said Amakasu.

"5-14, checking in," said Mori.

"5-15, ready and cleared the ropes," said Tsutsui. It was the responsibility of the last person on the ground to report he was clear so signal the chopper that they could return to base.

"Haitatsu 1-1, we're bugging out. Out."

"Echo 5-1 here, no activity at LZ Alpha," reported Asou into his helmet mounted radio. From his position with binoculars he couldn't see any sign of the instructors playing the Soviet team. Officially they were called the Red Team, but since red was associated with communism and they were all carrying Soviet weapons they were called the Soviet Team.

"Haitatsu 1-2 copies. Inbound now, out."

Three Black Hawks came in low and landed roughly on the ground. Harima thought that some of the soldiers in the doorways didn't slid out, but were unseated by the impact.

"Squad 5, advancing on Golf-West," said Asou leading his squad. They lined up against the wall of the southern most building where a door was located.

"We could blow it open with a shotgun," suggested Abarai.

"Ee, chalk will work really well, Renji," said Kurosaki sarcastically.

"Well at least I'm coming up with idea!"

"Shut up!" barked Ikuro smacking them upside the head. It was hard to believe she was a shy quiet girl at home.

"Since you two, break it down," said Asou.

"Why us?" Kurosaki and Abarai wined together.

"Because you're loud, annoying, big and strong enough to break it down-"

"So is Kenji and Haruki," interrupted Abarai.

"And! I'm squad leader," said Asou acting as if he hadn't heard Abarai. He tapped the Staff Sergeant stripes on his shoulder and pointed to the PFC and Pvt. insignias on Kurosaki and Abarai respectfully.

"Fine," grunted Kurosaki.

"On three," said Abarai. "1-2-3-go!"

Together they rammed the plywood door and dropped to the floor. Ikuro and Fujiwara with their M4A1 carbines raised stormed in behind with Asou and the command team. Hanai and the fire team waited outside until everyone else was inside.

"Ikuro, check upstairs."

"Hai, Sergeant."

Ikuro led her team upstairs. It was supposed to be a normal European village. They had entered into a storage room of a shop. The front was a bookshop. The upstairs was the living space for the family that ran the shop. The only flaw was that there was no basement, which most European shops with family living above would have.

"Upstairs clear," said Ikuro.

"Movement. Tangos crossing the street," said Abarai.

A couple of soldiers were moving to west-east street, but Abarai wasn't cleared to engage.

"This is Foxglove 4-1, we're under fire!"

"Foxglove 5-1, we're pinned down in Alpha-South!"

"Foxglove 6-1 here. We're surrounded in Echo-West!"

"Red Moss 3-1, this is Echo 5-1," said Asou speaking into the transmitter Toyotomi handed him.

"3-1 copies and inbound for gunrun," said the pilot of the AH-64DJ.

"Red Moss 3-1, this is Yoroi Uma Six. Process as planned, over," ordered Colonel Daijin from the observation center using a channel the squads weren't using.

"Hai, ma'am. 3-1 out."

"This is Red Moss 3-1," said the pilot using the regular channel. "I've spotted a hostile AA-vehicle setting up in the area. Looks like a Shilka. Fuck! He's firing!"

Harima saw the Apache Longbow fly over trailing smoke. It was losing altitude and disappeared behind the trees.

"We have an Apache down, we have an Apache down. Red Moss 3-1 is down. 3rd platoon can you assist?" asked Colonel Daijin.

"But ma'am. Are orders-"

"Can you assist?!" asked Colonel Daijin forcefully.

"Hai, ma'am!"

"Than secure that site. 2nd Platoon, F Company; Squad 5, E Company, you are on your own. Secure the town without armor support."

"Echo 5-1 copes, ma'am," said Asou.

"What?!"

"You can't be serious!"

"6-1 again. We need backup."

Harima shook his head. This was a clever exercise. Colonel Daijin clearly wanted to know if 2nd and 3rd platoons of F Company could handle the sudden changes that happened in real battles. Clearly they chose one veteran squad to take control of the situation.

"Get that alley door open. We're gonna' clear Foxtrot-West and secure 6th squad's southern flank. Well then clear out the south buildings and push for the east buildings. We're taking the church with or without armor support."

"Entry plan?" asked Ikuro.

"You'll breech and clear. Amakasu, get a charge on that door. Hanai, watch our backs."

"Sir," nodded Hanai, Ikuro, and Amakasu. Amakasu placed a C2 charge on the doorknob. The assault team lined up by the door.

"Okay, 5-4-3-2-1-"

**Bang!**

The area around the knob was blown apart and the door swung open. They stormed the living room diving behind furniture. A soldier with an RPK was firing from behind an overturned table in the next room. He was preventing Asou or anyone else from entering. He was with a woman with an AK-74m who was covering the gunner from any attempts to flank him.

It occurred to Ikuro that in real life the table and furniture would not protect them, but they were shooting chalk.

Asou looked behind the house. There was no cover and he could see the enemy in some of the windows. The front was little better, but a couple of road blocks did offer protection… from the MG in the bell tower.

"This is Echo 5-1 to all Echo 5 callsigns, 5-9, there is cover in the streets. Cover 5-10 and take out that MG in the tower. We'll make it up from there," said Asou.

"Make it up?" asked an instructor in the control room listening to the transmissions.

"Sgt. Asou is one of our best," said Colonel Daijin. She suddenly remembered that it was her that put him in charge of that squad. Almost two years ago a wary and shell-shock looking corporal reported to her as the ranking soldier in his platoon. She had made him a sergeant because he only had enough soldiers to amount to a squad and as a corporal he wouldn't have any command training.

"Cover me!" shouted Harima as he pulled the AT4 off his back.

He popped up and fired a dummy round. This was basically a rocket that didn't launch and only released a lot of compressed steam. It was up to an observer to decide if he had killed the MG nest.

Sure enough, a man with a white armband, to signify his neutrality, waved-off the MG crew and signaled to Harima that the nest was down.

"MG is down," reported Harima.

"Good work. Now move across the street to that brick wall around that café and fire into the Foxtrot-West. Use the roadblocks for cover."

"Roger that, moving now."

From Echo-West, Pvt. Hayasuka could see a lone team crossing the street and moving into firing position.

'Harima-sempai wa totemoi kokoi desu (Harima is very cool)' she thought. 'He was right about my shooting. I'm scared of it, but I'm scare of dying… he'd make a perfect mentor.'

"Yuka-chan, what are you looking at?!" shouted Pvt. Takano Asako.

"Asa-chan, see him? If I have to be a soldier for the next four years of my life-"

She ducked as a volley of rifle fire raked her position at the window. "… I need a teacher. He's helped me improve faster than any of the drill sergeants."

Meanwhile, Hanai, Harima, Kitsumori, and Jupei found themselves cut off from their squad. Kitsumori was firing at muzzle flashes to lessen the other team's numbers… or at least pin them down.

The rest of 5th squad was searching Foxtrot-West. They cleared out a stray rifleman in an upstairs bathroom, but nothing else.

"Sergeant, there's no side door on the police station," said Ikuro. "We'll have to enter Echo-West from the street."

The police station was on the corner and had no back. There wasn't a parking lot or service entrance. It was a two story stone building. The other alley may have had an entrance, but wall at the end of the alley made that impossible… without resorting to real explosives.

"5-1 to Foxglove 6-1, we're linking up with you. Cover us and check fire on east corner. I don't need my soldiers getting shot up, clear?" asked Asou.

"Understood, sir," said Sergeant Sagawa Kazuya, Squad 6; F Company, leader. Sagawa was an OR-5 and Asou, as a Staff Sergeant, was an OR-6. Asou could order around most of F Company's NCOs accept for 1st, 4th, and 9th Squad leaders. 8th and 9th were Staff Sergeants like Asou and 1st was a Sergeant First Class.

Back in the control room, E Company's officers watched the monitors being fed by cameras scattered around the mock town.

"So this is 5th, ne?" asked a young man.

"Correct, Minegishi-kun," said 2nd Lt. Urashima proudly.

Second Lieutenant Minegishi Hideto was a 22-year-old man who had graduated from the National Defense Academy and was to serve a year in a combat command. Most of his classmates had signed onto supply, signal, medical, transport, and auxiliary corps. The ones with connections had signed onto cushy positions on major bases such as Northeastern HQ at Sendai, Northern HQ at Sapporo, Western HQ at Kengun, Middle HQ at Itami, Eastern HQ at Nerima, or Central HQ at Tokyo. He had personally wanted to go to the new EUROCOM at Brussels, but the only junior officers out of the academy that went had connections.

He had jumped on the opportunity to be in the 6th Infantry. Now he regretted it. He hated that he was in the field all the time and was expected to lead troops.

'So much for the old plan,' he thought for the thousandth time. 'Join the military and rise to the top. Retire with honors and then run for political office.'

Here he was at the bottom. Hitsugaya was senior because he was next in line for battalion command. Matsumoto was next in line for company command. Urashima could easily transfer to another unit for his own company if he wanted.

"2nd Platoon has regrouped," said Captain Yamazaki Natsuko, a 24-year-old woman and CO of F Company. She too was a graduate of the Academy, but had served in a replacement depot, a place where newly trained recruits were funneled into units needing replacements.

"E Company had one squad and took control of the situation," said Major Nara flatly. The new officers and sergeants were better trained than the veterans, but they were nervous, highly inexperienced, and most alarming was that most of them weren't trained for combat commands.

"Staff Sergeant Itatsu was doing okay, but his squad doesn't seem to be able to keep up with him," said 1st Lt. Matsumoto to the surprise of everyone. She had been asleep for most of the simulation.

"These guys won't make through their first battle. They expected to have air and armor support and when both were lost they couldn't adapt. They're too slow to react," said Captain Zakito Karin, former 1st platoon leader of D Company and current CO of Dogwood Company, darkly.

"On the bright side… casualties were minimal," said Colonel Daijin dryly. "Sergeant Major, signal the mission is over, then tell them they can walk back to base. Once they report back in there are free until 0600 tomorrow."

"Hai, ma'am," said Command Sergeant Major Neya Satoshi, Colonel Daijin's aide.

* * *

**0900 Hours; February 23****rd****, 2012; Washington Athletics Club, Seattle; Washington State, United States of America**

"These two should have popped up on your people's radar. Eighth Directorate spook operated in Bundeswehr turf in Afghanistan. He ever cross paths with KSK or MAD?" asked Jack.

"Nien, Oberst," said Oberst Anna Wörner, Compass Four. She was in charge of land operations. "I was never in Afghanistan, but I can pass it along-"

"No. This stays here. Ivan doesn't need to know what we're up to. Klar (clear)?"

"Ja. Must be a lot of pressure from your government," she sympathized as she picked up a picture. "Him we know. He surveyed the border for the KGB on Czechoslovakian-Deutsch and Hungarian-Austro borders."

"Surveyed?"

"Fine… he penetrated the Iron Curtain. His name is Nazariy Andriyovych Shevchenko. He was born in Odessa, Ukraine. He specializes in covert insertion. He is a pathfinder. Fines weaknesses in security and outlines it for special forces, usually Spetsnaz."

"When did you leave Europe?"

"We didn't know he had, Oberst. Shevchenko was spotted in Prague 12 days before your president was attacked. He's pretty elusive so less than two weeks was pretty recent for him," said Wörner as she wondered how he had suddenly slipped away to North America.

"Who does he work for?" asked Jack. Both knew Shevchenko was KGB, but not what part he worked in the Seventh Directorate.

"He didn't work for the regular change of command when we first noticed him. We knew his name from one of his early operations when he still worked for the Central Group (3). About 2011 we think he was place under someone else's command. The best guess is he's under command of someone in Moscow and carrying out missions for the senior KGB staff."

"Scary thought," said Jack detachedly. "Speaking of scary, there is a lot of activity in Southwest Strategic Direction. Multiple divisions have broken routine and are conducting large scale military drills. JNA (Jugoslavenska Narodna Armija or Yugoslav People's Army), is also stepping up military operations. The 9th Army (4) is digging into defensive positions along the Yugoslavian-Italian and Yugoslavian-Austrian borders. The 3rd Army (5) is moving up to the Kosovar border and the Greek border. The 1st and 2nd Armies (6) are in extensive training right now. No words on the 5th or 7th Armies (7) yet. Batajnica AB (8) is pretty active these days. So is Podgorica (9)."

"Danke, the Vatarland will put this to use."

"It won't do you any good. After the 2009 treaty with Serbia we have to downsize NATO presence in the Balkans. By March only a battalion will be left," pointed out Jack. The US and Serbian governments had come to an agreement on decreasing NATO troop numbers to lower tensions in the Balkans.

It looked bad, but the Yugoslavians said it was for national defense incase NATO attacked. If NATO rushed troops to Kosovo they could provoke a war that could still be preventable. For now, soldiers could only prepare for the worst and let the politicians and diplomats handle the situation for now… not that that was a comfort to any soldier.

Around the world, soldiers were preparing for a war that may not happen. Most thought that war was coming. The smart ones knew otherwise.

Although the Yugoslavians had decided to make the preparations to invade Kosovo to reclaim it and create a buffer between them and NATO invasion from Albanian, there was still a chance that the Yugoslavians won't attack if the West assures them they're in no danger of attack. If that were to happen the Soviets would stand down since their Southwest Frontier was in no danger...

... but that is assuming nothing escalates the crisis.

* * *

Well, I've got no idea what to do for my next chapter… okay I have ideas but no clear plan. Well, I guess I'll be researching Shinto weddings. I also need to brush up on Serbian, Croatian, Bosnian, and Albanian names. American names are easy because Americans come from all other the world. Russian names I usually get out of the newspaper, Clancy novels, etc. English, Irish, and Scottish names follow patterns. A lot of Americans have German (English, Irish, or French) names and the rest I get from history books. Japanese names I usually pull from anime, manga, games, etc. If you want a story to sound somewhat authentic then names are important. Try wikipedia for names. That's what I do. Even if you are one of those people who don't trust wikipedia it's not like you're writing a school report.

Well, until later.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. It first should be noted that there is a difference between NATO Reporting-Names and Soviet Names. The Mi-24 is known by NATO as the Hind. The Soviets do not use the same name. It is called the Letayushchiy Tank (Flying Tank) in Russia, an appropriate name for people on the receiving end of the heavily armed and armor chopper. Most Russians called the Mi-24 the Krokodil (Crocodile).

2. The KA-BAR was the USMC and USN standard issue sheath knife during World War II.

3. The Central Group of Forces is a subdivision of the Western Strategic Direction. Central Group is based in Prague, Czechoslovakia. It only includes Czechoslovakia. Northern Group of Forces is based in Warsaw and included Poland. They also had an East Germany Group that was separate from the other groups.

4. The 9th Army of the Yugoslav People's Army Ground Forces is based in Slovenian. Their headquarters is in the Slovenian capital Ljubljana.

5. The 3rd Army of the JNA Ground Forces is based in Macedonia and its HQ is in the Macedonian capital Skopje.

6. The 1st and 2nd Armies are both based in Serbia. The 1st Army's HQ is in the Serbian capital Belgrade. The 2nd Army's HQ is in the city of Nis, a major city in the southern part of the country.

7. The 5th Army is based in Croatia and its HQ is in the Croatian capital Zagreb. The 7th Army is based in Bosnia-Herzegovina and its HQ is in the Bosnian capital Sarajevo.

8. Batajnica Air Base is a civilian/military airport outside of Belgrade.

9. Podgorica Air Base is an air base in Montenegro near the city of Podgorica not too far Kosovo.


	8. Chapter 8: The Beginning

I can't my sleeping medication refilled until the 19th. I'm a chronic insomniac in addition to having Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) and Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD). Of course this happens during midterm week. AAGGHH!!

… sorry about that ya'll.

I got Brothers in Arms: Hell's Highway. They made a lot of improvements. Word of advice, avoid using fences, carts, and wooden crates for cover because they can be ripped to shreds by small arms. Sandbags can be destroyed by grenades, M9 Bazookas, Panzershrecks, or tanks. The graphics are greatly improved. The plot is really well done and the characters' stories are really brought to life. You are Matt Baker again and he is slowly losing his mind from the war. The deaths and losses from Normandy are getting to him. I really like how they portrayed Operation: Market-Garden as looking successful at first and suddenly falling apart (as it would have looked to the men of the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions, and the British 1st Airborne Divisions and 30th Royal Guards Corps). If you enjoy movies like Band of Brothers, Saving Private Ryan, or A Bridge Too Far, you'll enjoy this game.

I don't own any trademark or copywrite item. Please leave a review and/or tell a friend.

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Beginning**

"Is it done, Yuri?"

"No, Comrade Premier, it has only begun."

A quote from Red Alert 2

**1000 Hours; March 1****st****, 2012; the lawn, White House; Washington DC, United States of America**

President Crane stumbled around the White House front lawn with the support of a cane. She appeared alone, but anyone who really knew how security at this level worked knew the Secret Service was always nearby and were out of sight.

Typical for March, it was cold and there was frost on the ground. Washington didn't normally get snow that stuck to the ground until February, usually, and it was often still cold in March. It wouldn't last though, it would start raining soon and would rain into May.

A number of tourists were taking pictures of her. Naturally there were a couple of protesters, people from the other parties, and people who just didn't like her.

'Even a god couldn't make everyone happy. Why else are there so many religions,' he thought to herself. 'That's why there are lots of foods, movies, books, countries, political parts, governments… because they can't make everyone happy.'

"Michelle, we need to talk," said a Hispanic man running towards her.

"What is it, Nick?" she asked her Secretary of State.

"Harold is off the deep end. Now, I've been trying to put out fires he's started. You know he authorized my people in Moscow to mention the KGB officers we captured! He is overstepping his authority!" he said enraged. Nicolas Spinoza was the Secretary of State. Harold Craig was the Vice President. Spinoza didn't need these headaches. "Craig has antagonizing the military, the security staff, the intelligence community, the Europeans… hell the only people he hasn't harass the Arabs! I mean why not just say something to make them hate us again?!"

"The night is still young," Crane said wryly.

"Michelle, what are you going to do about the Yugoslavians? We can't send troops to Kosovo or we'll definitely start a war."

"Two wars in one presidency… is that a record?" she asked.

"Huh… Truman was president during two wars, and that's assuming you don't count the Cold War."

"But Truman wasn't president during the whole of World War II and Korea. Then again, I can't say I was president during the whole of Korea," she said thoughtfully. Since the Korean War didn't end, it was defined as being from June 25, 1950 - November 25, 2010.

"A lot of people are getting nervous, Michelle. The DoD is losing hope and are now stepping up military's training cycles. It's starting to look like the world is going to war. By the end of the month we'll be ready. You have to do something!" yelled Spinoza flapping his arms in desperation. Crane caught a few flashes out of the corner of her eye. The press would love those pictures.

"I call Belgrade, then the Kremlin."

* * *

**1437 Hours; March 1****st****, 2012; Yagami JR East Station, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Yakumo squeezed her way out of the crowded train. She was happy to be away from some of the men on the train. Whenever she could, Yakumo would board the women's only cars. Due to mounting complaints of grouping and sexual harassment, the JR East Railway Company designated certain railway cars for women only on their busy lines for rush hour services.

She walked through the square and down the street on her way to the grocery store.

She passed the place where she used to work part-time, El Café, when she was suddenly grabbed and pulled into an alley.

"Shhh!" whispered one of the two people who had grabbed her. It didn't take Yakumo too long to recognize the two people.

She wiggled her mouth free and asked, "Nee-san, Sawachika-sempai, nani (what are you doing) (1)?"

"Yakumo-chan, Kenji-san's in there is a woman," said Tenma.

"Honton (ready)" started Yakumo.

"She has dogtags, he might have met her in the Army," said Eri to Tenma.

"Sou desu ka?"

"Okay, we'll storm in and grab him," said Tenma.

Yakumo sighed and pushed the two off of her. She dusted off her cloths and walked into the café.

"Yakumo-chan, what the hell are you doing!?" cried Eri in an urgent whisper. They ran in behind her as she approached Kenji from behind.

"Yakumo-chan, you can't do this. We need a plan," said Tenma.

Yakumo ceased the point… even though it was their plan, and they sat in a booth behind Kenji and listened intently.

"This doesn't seem right somehow," said the girl. She had long black hair and was thin. She was flat-chested.

"Ii desu yo (it's fine)," assured Kenji.

"But why can't you just stick it here?" asked the girl. Eri, Tenma, and Yakumo felt their faces slowly turn red.

"If you have more experience we can try that, but for your first time you'll want to take things slower," explained Kenji. "So say I came from behind and grab you, then what?"

"Eto (uh)… eto… shift your weight off me and to take charge."

"Good, but trust me, it's a lot harder than it sounds. We do you do with me now?"

"Eto… tie you up?"

"I didn't know Kenji-san liked it so rough," said Tenma who was bright red. Yakumo was far too embarrassed to speak. Eri merely nodded.

"So say we had someone with us," proposed the girl.

"Well, there are a lot of advantages to having more than one person," said Kenji with a chuckle, totally unaware of the effect these words were having on the third party. "For something like this you won't want more than four people. Otherwise the situation would be out of control."

"Is it okay to hit my captive?"

"This girl is sick," said Eri through gritted teeth.

"Well, not officially," said Kenji cautiously. "Though if you want anything from him you'll have to be forceful. But be sure to protect yourself properly so nothing unexpected comes up. Safety first."

"Leave it to Kenji-kun to suggest safe sex with a sadist," groaned Eri.

"You make it sound so easy, Sempai. I guess I choose right to pick you to teach me. But be gentle, I'm new at this," said the girl nervously.

"Don't worry. Haruki is an expert and he'll be a big help. You can even do it with some of his students if you want to try it with someone your level," said Kenji.

"Ah, arigato gozaimasu," thanked the girl.

"Haruki-san is in this too, what do we do now, Eri-chan?" moaned Tenma. "And his students?"

"Should I bring my knife?" asked the girl.

This shocked both girls as violent images of S&M flashed before them.

"Not for a while. Let's go now though, my girlfriend and I have a lot of work to do later tonight."

"Shit, what nerve they have," said Eri.

Kenji walked past their table with the girl next to him. "Eh, ah, Tenma-san, Eri-san, Yakumo, you three having girl-time?"

"Listen here you-!" started Eri, but Yakumo stopped her with a raised hand.

"Kenji, who is she?" she asked calmly. She knew Kenji would tell her the truth… or what he thought was the truth… besides, he was a really bad liar.

"Her? This is Hayasuka Yukari, one of the replacements in F Company," said Kenji.

Yakumo looked and saw she wore a jacket with the saw division insignia that was on Kenji's leather jacket.

"Konnichiwa, I'm Private Hayasuka. It's a pleasure to meet you, Tsukamoto-san. Harima-sempai talks about you often," she said with a bow and a bright smile.

"Where're you going?" asked Eri sharply after calming down some.

"Over to Haruki's. I'm teaching her hand-to-hand combat. You can't always use a gun and you have to know how to fight with your hands."

"So desu (I see)," said Eri.

Kenji's smile faltered a little. "Didn't you get my message?"

"What message?" asked Yakumo.

"I told Tenma-san this morning," he said. Eri and Yakumo turned to face Tenma. She went into her intense thinking mode as she struggled to recall the memory. After 15 seconds she shrugged with an apologetic smile.

"Kenji?"

"Hai?"

"What did you mean by… actually never mind," said Yakumo.

* * *

**0700 Hours; December 10****th****, 1947; outskirts of Unterschleissheim, 15 km north of Munich; Bavaria Staat, Federal Republic of Germany**

(Conversations in this section are in English unless underlined)

"So this is the plan?" asked 2nd Lieutenant Elijah Pryce.

"In short, yes Leftenant," said Captain James Dawson. "You Yanks up for the job?"

"My boys want a piece of Ivan for what they did to our company. But what do we do for infantry?" asked Pryce.

"The Huns says they want to want Unterschleissheim back. They also saw there is resistance willing to help us," said Dawson.

"Kraut Resistance? I'll be damned. This is one strange war," laughed Pryce.

"Indeed. We're hoping that some of 40th Rifles are still alive. Can you follow my orders, Yank?"

"Until General Bradley says otherwise. Monty ain't in command here, is he?"

"General Montgomery is busy up north. We're under Bradley's command."

"Like the good ol' days," said Pryce remembering when Eisenhower was in charge and Patton was still alive.

"Cap'n, dah sun's up. W're re'dy to mov' on yur' ordahs, sah'," said a Sergeant with a very strong Scottish accent.

"Thank you, Haig. Leftenant, get your company ready. Will see you in town," said Captain Dawson.

Pryce walked over to his company. He had seven tanks, all that was left of his company. Three M36B1 Jackson tank destroyers and four M4A3E4 medium tanks were all that remained of B Company of the 46th Armor Regiment. The British had eight Cromwell medium tanks and four Firefly Sherman medium tanks. Supposedly, some of the 4th Infantry Division was supposed to join the attack.

The Sherman tank had a lot of advantages, but just as many disadvantages. It was cheap, easy to build, easy to repair, easy to upgrade, easy to modify, fast, light, easy to transport, and maneuverable. It also however easy to damage, its armor was known to caught fire, use more flammable gasoline instead of diesel, easy to destroy, had less firepower than its Soviet or German counterparts, and were very bad choices for head on tank battles.

Like most tanks of its era, the Sherman had a crew of five. In front were a driver and a driver-side gunner. In the turret were a gunner, assistant gunner, and commander. The driver-side gunner made a Browning M1919A4 and could cover the area forward the chassis. The gunner on the M4A3E4 Shermans had a 76.2 mm (3 inch) gun and a M1919A4 .30-06 light machine gun. The commander had a Browning M2 .50 cal heavy machine gun in the anti-air position.

The Jackson was an improved tank destroyer to replace the M10 Wolverine. The Wolverine like most American armor vehicles was cheap, fast, and easy to make, but lacked armor. Like most US tank destroyers also didn't originally come with any machine guns to fight off infantry and the turret was open so the gunner, assistant gunner, and commander were totally exposed. The M36 Jackson was based off the Sherman. It too had an open turret, but a kit could be attached a hatch to protect the crew. It also featured a 90 mm gun, the most powerful anti-tank weapon the US Army fielded during World War II. Two of the Jacksons had M2 heavy machine guns.

Logs and sandbags were attached to the Sherman to give it a better chance of surviving a direct hit, a trick they learned from past battles with Panthers and Tigers. The Soviet T-34 proved to be just as terrifying as the Panzer V Panther medium tanks and the KV-1 and JS-3 heavy tanks were just as bad as the Panzer VI Tiger heavy tanks.

"Jack, Tom, Jasper, Sam, mount up and get that tin can moving! We'll be leading that attack on Unterschleissheim for the Brits and retake it from Ivan. We'll be under British command, but we'll get some payback for the boys we lost since this war started," said Lt. Pryce. "Is that clear!"

"Roger that, sir," said the other tank commanders.

The first rule of thumb of being an American tanker is avoiding direct battles with the Soviets. Since the British also used the Shermans, and the Cromwell was similar, they also preferred to avoid charging into head on battles. A man in civilian clothes was sitting on top of the turret next to the commander's hatch.

"There ist a fork in zeh' road a'ead, Herr Pryce."

He was a local farmer who was showing the Americans a back road while the British would attack up the main road two hours later.

"Okay, this ist w'ere I leave you, Amis (2). Keep goin' und you vill see Hautpmann Edelstein," said the farmer sliding off the tank and pointing up the road. He ran road off into the trees.

They slowly drove down the road at a sedate 12 mph. Being a gas-powered tank, the Sherman was quieter than the diesel-powered tanks the Soviets and Germans used.

The road was packed down dirt that was cut through the thick forests of southern Germany. Judging by the tracks in the road it was mostly used by horse-drawn carts. During the 1940s horse-drawn vehicles were still pretty common, even in parts of the United States.

"Hey, Lij," called out Technician Third Grade (3) Andrew Potter to Pryce. "Looks like someone is waiting for us."

There was a man dressed in a long dark overcoat to fell to his ankles.

"He's a paratrooper," said Pryce. "He might be the guy waiting for us. Hold up, ya'll"

Pryce hoisted himself out of the turret and slid down to the chassis and lowered himself to the ground. He raised his goggles and pushed it onto him helmet revealing green eyes. He pulled off his tank-crew helmet, which looked like an old fashion American football helmet complete with holes in the top. The helmet also had flaps with a built in speaker for communication with other tanks.

He stretched a little. The American armor corps uniform was a little different from the infantry one. They got the same pants, boots, and tunic, but the jacket had fewer pockets and was thicker. The winter uniform included tan fleece-lined jacket and brown trousers that could go over the pants and was held up by suspenders.

He pulled off his right glove with his teeth and held it out to the soldier.

The soldier wore the long coat that was unique in the German Army to the Fallschirmjäger. He wore a helmet that didn't have visor-like flare-rim helmet that was standard issue to the Germans. The camouflage style was a subtle patchwork style. On his lap was a Kar 98k bolt-action rifle with a Zeiss Zielvier 4x telescoping scope. Kar 98k was not normal armament for paratroopers, but Pryce guessed this guy preferred the longer reach and accuracy over the G43 and K43 which were more common among paratroopers.

Pryce looked the man over as he stood up. He seemed a little small for a man. He looked up and their eyes met.

Pryce's jaw dropped.

"Guten morgen," said the soldier in a smooth, higher-pitch voice.

It was a woman. She had dark-blonde hair and blue eyes. She had pale skin and a few freckles on her cheeks and nose. She didn't look a day past 19, and Pryce was pretty sure she was younger than that.

She was very pretty. The only thing marring her appearance was a scar next to her left eye and the slight irregularity there that suggested that that part of her skull was smashed in… as if someone had hit her hard.

While Pryce wondered what kind of monster would hurt such a creature, the woman was speaking… in German.

"… und mein kommander is waiting for your panzers. I will be traveling with you und your panzer kompanie. Albert Kompanie has spotted the Tommies. Herr Leutnant, are you listening to me? Can you understand me?"

"… a little," said Pryce. The soldier smiled painfully at Pryce's accent. She was annoyed at being made to meet the Americans and wished that one of the English speaking soldiers had gone instead. Like they said, the Americans came to rebuild Germany after taking it over and they didn't bother learning the language.

"Can you understand me enough to get to the rendezvous area?"

"…"

"To the meeting place?" asked the soldier using simpler language.

"Oh, ja… frau (Ms.)…?"

"Oberstabsgefreiter (Corporal) Kaethe Mauhauser, 30th Fallschirmjäger Regiment, 13th Fallschirmjäger Division. Sniper and scout for Baron Kompanie."

"Oberleutnant Elijah Pryce, current kommander of Charlie Kompanie of the 209th Armor Battalion, 49th Armor Regiment; 3rd Armor Division. For now we're part of… uh… the British… 33rd Armor Regiment," said Pryce struggling to speak. He strolled over to his tank with Mauhauser and climbed onto the chassis. He was about to turn to help her but she was already on the chassis and climbing onto the turret. Surprised at her nimbleness he could only stare, but regained himself.

"Jesus, is that a woman?" asked Jasper, sticking his head out of the hatch to see what was going on.

"Nah, it's a man with a problem, what the fuck do you think it is?" asked Pryce sarcastically.

Mauhauser sat on the front edge of the turret, a little in front of Pryce. She laid the rifle in her lap as she had before and pointed straight ahead. "Go forward, Herr Leutnant."

About half an hour later they were passing a barn when Mauhauser pointed.

"Hold up," order Pryce. "Here?"

"Ja," said Mauhauser.

A group of soldier stood up from nowhere. They too were paratroopers. They dressed like Mauhauser, but carried standard armaments. Most had MP40 sub-machine guns, some had the K43 semi-auto rifle, and two had FG42 automatic rifles that were designed for the German paratroopers.

"Stabsgefrieter, you found the Amis. Sehr gute," said a Hauptmann Wolfgang Edelstein. He was clutching an STG 44, the first successful assault rifle made and first in combat.

German infantry carried one primary weapon, two Model 24 Stielhandgranates (Stick Hand Grenades), knife or bayonet, and often a sidearm. The belt they wore held most of this. On their right was a holster for a pistol, on the left was a loop where the grenades hung, and in the middle were where the mag and knife were kept.

"Lieutenant, I am Captain Edelstein. My company is ready to start the attack when you are," said the medium-height man in almost perfect English. He had brown hair and blue eyes. He also had a Star of David hanging around his neck.

"We have a little more than an hour before the British start their attack. We're supposed to charge the town and get Ivan's attention," said Pryce.

"I understand. Once the people of Unterschleissheim see our forces they will join us in repelling the Marxist invaders," said Edelstein.

"Sounds good, Captain. You're men… er, soldiers need a ride?" asked Pryce. He corrected himself after remembering Mauhauser. He also noticed she wasn't the only woman in the Bundeswehr. It seemed they really were taking anybody who wanted to protect the Fatherland.

Unterschleissheim was not too far. The Germans dismounted from the tanks and began to spread out as they approached the small city's outskirts.

Pryce was keeping as low as possible in his seat. The Soviets had a lot of skilled snipers in their army and they would often use them to watch the flanks or rears as an advance guard. That was who he lost his CO.

Mauhauser was hiding behind the turret training her rifle on buildings in front of them.

She checked the bell tower of a church.

'Idiot,' she thought when she saw movement. It was faint, but she knew there was a Russian in the tower.

"Herr Leutnant, there is a Soviet sniper in that bell tower."

"Eh? Oh, danke, Kate," said Pryce taking a look with his binoculars.

"Kate? I am Oberstabsgrefreiter Mauhauser. I don't recall saying you could call me anything else. Kate is not even my name," said Mauhauser glaring at Pryce.

"Keep your shirt on. It's a lot easier to say Kate. I don't even know what a oberstab… whatever, is. I do know you are not an officer. So live with it, Kate," said Pryce. "Surely you Germans are not as uptight as the Brits."

Mauhauser looked offended at being compared to the English, who were famous for being the second most arrogant people in Europe after the French, or at least that was what the Germans thought… and Americans. The Germans were known for many things such as intelligence, inventors, proud military leaders, and skilled musicians. They were also known for being friendly people who enjoyed the company of others… and a good beer. After all, much of American society and culture was influenced by Germany just as much as the Irish, English, French, and others had affected the US.

It was rather sad that even by the 21st Century, many Americans could still not look past the evens of the Holocaust when they had so much in common to the Germans.

"Are you going to shoot him?" asked Pryce.

Mauhauser gave him a haughty look, took aim, and fired. Pryce briefly saw a black mass falling out of tower.

**Clang!**

A 7.62x54 mm ricocheted off the turret and Pryce ducked inside the tank. It seemed there was more than one sniper.

"Hey, Kate. A lil' help, would ya'!" shouted Pryce.

He heard a noise and looked up at the open hatch. She smiled smugly at him and said, "No Tommy can kill Russians like I can. Never call me that again, Herr Pryce."

"Whatever," muttered Pryce in English so that she wouldn't understand. "Tom, take us forward. Jasper, kill anything that gets in the Krauts way. Everyone form up in two groups. Andy, Tex, follow Robby's platoon in. Rest of ya' follow me."

"Hey!" called Pryce down to some of the passing Germans. "That tank destroyer needs to be protected from infantry. Can you cover it?"

"Jawohl, Mein Herr," said a Stabsfeldweber. As it turned out the Germans were planning to follow the American armor into town anyways.

"Machine gun ahead," said Mauhauser.

"Jasper, MG, 1 O'clock!" shouted Pryce into the corded mic.

The Sherman's turret adjusted to the left and let loose a burst of .30-06 light machine gun fire. The Russians responded with a burst of MG that forced Pryce to duck back inside the turret again. He wished that some form of technology would make it possible to see the battlefield. The best way was to have his head outside the tank, but it was so dangerous.

Mauhauser questioned the wisdom of stand on the tank, where she was exposed on the rear in addition to the tank being an obvious target. On the bright side the Soviets did not have effective anti-tank weapons like the American Bazooka… though the Americans had exported their M9s.

Rifle fire pored out of the houses and shops that lined the street and the Americans were only too happy to show their ire for the Russians. The Germans were not pleased with the Americans willingness to destroy German homes, but the Germans priority was to get rid of the Communist.

A Russian soldier came out of an alley pulling a small cart behind him, about as high as a toy wagon. He turned it around and plopped on his stomach to fire the SG-43 medium machine gun. More machine guns were joining the fight and were forcing the Germans to seek better cover than the tanks in the middle of the street.

Pryce's tank fired a 76.2 mm shell at the Soviet's MG nests. The lifted the machine gun crews into the air and severed some of their limbs. The tank behind him took aim and fired a shell into a shop where riflemen were hounding the German paratroopers. A soldier climbed onto Pryce's tank and grabbed hold of the anti-air machine gun mounted next to the commander's hatch. He started firing the deadly .50 cal rounds at the Soviets until a bullet collided with his head sending grey brain-matter, hair, and blood bursting into the air. Mauhauser saw him roll off the tank and onto the ground where a pool of blood formed on the pavement.

She could see by peeking over the turret that was Russians had set up at a T-intersection ahead. Many had Mosin-Nagant rifles. They would pop up and fire a single shot before ducking down before they could be shot at. Some had PPSh-41s, or the improved PPh-43, and would fire short bursts.

What Mauhauser was looking for was soldiers armed with anti-tank rifles. They weren't effective against her country's tanks, especially after they started putting armor skirts on their medium tanks, but the American Shermans were venerable to the high-velocity 14.5x114 mm tungsten cartridge. Tungsten was a very dense metal that could punch right through armor.

A T-26 light tank rounded the corner of the T-intersection. It fired its 45 mm gun at Pryce's tank. Mauhauser ducked behind the turret and waited for the end. There was no doubt in her mind that the Sherman would not survive even the puny Soviet tank. To her surprise she heard it hit, but it bounced off the front of the tank.

She heard the louder bang of the Sherman's 3 inch gun and an explosion. However, by the sound of smashing glass she guessed Pryce's gunner missed the T-26 and hit the building behind it.

'Another German city the Americans destroy,' groaned Mauhauser in her mind. 'It's for our liberation. It's for our liberation. It's for our liberation.'

"Hey, Kate, I think we have them on the run," said Pryce sticking his head out of the hatch and looking back towards her. He smiled at her.

'Idiot Amerikaner (Idiot American)," she thought. Americans were loud, obnoxious, trigger-happy, over-sexed, and so many more. They were reckless, rude, and wanted everything their way. So why was smiling back?

* * *

**1700 Hours; March 1****st****, 2012 (UCT +1); Executive Assembly Building, Belgrade; City of Belgrade District, Socialist Republic of Serbia; Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia**

**United States Eastern Standard Time (UCT -5): 1100 Hours; March 1****st****, 2012**

"Comrade President, there is an urgent phone call from Washington DC," said a man's voice from a small speaker on Ante Mikosvić's desk.

He wordlessly picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Mr. Mikosvić, how are you today?" asked a female voice.

"President Crane, how is your wound?" asked Mikosvić politely. He personally didn't trust Americans, but he respected strong women. They reminded him of his mother who had protected him during the chaos of late 80s and 90s. He could remember being 20 and living on a farm when it was torched by Serbian Home Guard units.

"Better," she said bitterly. Mikosvić didn't imagine she was in a good mood after being shot by a Serbian. "Your military is very active."

"So is yours. You were supposed to remove a company from Kosovo this week. They don't appear to be leaving."

"The Air Force cancelled some flights because your people repositioned surface-to-air missiles to the borders."

"Albanian has working airstrips. Surely they could take a train there and fly over your ally, Italy," argued Mikosvić. "Besides, we're not going to shoot down American transports. We're concerned about your bombers."

"… if I just get a company out of Kosovo, will that satisfy you?"

"… I will not cease military activity… but I will make a anti-air free corridor for your air force," promised Mikosvić.

"Thank you," said Crane.

They hung up.

"Comrade President, this came from the BIA. They traded some information with the KGB for this file. It was quite a lot, but it was worth it, I think," said Dragan Čavič, Mikosvić's intelligence attaché.

"The Kosovars? When did they get this all these?" asked Mikosvić in surprise.

"Most likely the CIA. They seem to plan to attack us by October. Most likely they will stage something to win Western support. There is also this," said Čavič pointing to something on the file.

"Bastards. So now it is even more urgent we destroy this rebel government in Kosovo," said Mikosvić.

As far as anyone was concerned, Kosovo was part of Serbia. Even the Croatians and Slovenians could agree on that. Their separation from Serbia marked the end of Yugoslavia and most believed it being reunited would solidify the new Yugoslavia.

He grew up in a violent and unchecked nation. Where the Croats and Serbs would kill each other if given the chance. Where Bosnians died indiscriminately at anyone's hands. Where his mother was raped and murdered by his on people and countrymen.

He once read in an American newspaper that crime was very low in the Balkans… because most people had so little to steal that even theft was not a profitable venture. Violence was all that many new.

But it wasn't like that when Tito ruled. 'He used to warm us like the sun', as one Belgrade resident said.

Mikosvić smiled. He would be a man as great as Marshal Tito that all of the Balkans people would respect. He would force the Croats, Bosnians, Slovenians, and all the Yugoslav's groups to live under one flag. Maybe even bringing the Albanians into their union, the only country in the Balkans that was never part of SFRY.

Clearly there was no turning back. It was his destiny to do this and neither his people nor the Kosovars were leaving him any choice. He would show them all that his country wasn't weak. The West, the Soviet Union… hell, he'd even show the People's Republic of China what the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia was made of. And most of all he'd show Yugoslavia that they were strong and teach Kosovo their place.

* * *

**1038 Hours; March 4****th****, 2012; Kremlin, Moscow; Moscow Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic**

(Conversations in this section are in Russian unless underlined)

Penovaski was reading a report from the Southwest Strategic Front HQ. General Bondarenko had replaced some of his regimental officers with battalion officers who he deemed were better qualified.

The Southwest Front was never given high priority when compared to the West Front. It was the same for the West who put most of their best troops and equipment in Germany on, what Penovaski assumed they called, the East Front.

Through the Cold War both sides had always assumed that the theoretical World War III would take place in Germany and both sides responded by placing all their new equipment in Germany and Poland. No one would expect that a war would break out in the chaotic Balkans, Afghanistan, East Asia, the Middle East, or other places that were far removed from the USA and the EU. It was strange logic as Soviet General-Secretary thought about it. The Balkans was unstable. Afghans hated the Soviets. The Middle East was unstable in parts and had lots of oil. East Asia was a powder keg with ancient standing conflicts and millions of troops ready to mobilize. Why Central Europe? Poland firmly under Soviet control. Germany was firmly under EU control and profited considerably. Unless NATO or the USSR wanted to start a war, and that was a big if, it would be highly unlikely to start there.

"Comrade General-Secretary, may I have a word?" asked a stoic looking man.

"Of course, Comrade General."

The man closed the door and took a seat in front of Penovaski.

"Josef, my intelligence wing has informed me that NATO has removed another company from Kosovo. The Yugoslavians are showing signs they may be standing down," said Colonel General Andrei Vasilyevich Grishin, head of the Glavnoje Razvedyvatel'noje Upravlenije (GRU), the Soviet military intelligence, counter-intelligence, and special operation command and arch-rivals of the KGB.

"But you don't believe it do you, Andrei?" asked Penovaski with a crafty smile slowly appearing on his face.

Grishin blinks and his mouth seemed to look less stern, as close to smiling as he got. "Nyet, Josef. I know better than to trust the Yugoslavians."

"Since when do you trust anyone? You don't even trust me, and I am you closest friend," laughed Penovaski manically.

"True. They are quietly planning to attack Kosovo. They will send in their army with less training. They will not need it against the Kosovars. There are also indications of weapons of mass destruction in Kosovar hands."

"WMDs? Andrei, I hope you have more than 'indications' for me. Remember America's invasion of Iraq?" asked Penovaski with a dangerous look flashing across his eyes.

"If I get proof, what will happen?"

Penovaski didn't answer. His face turned stoic and emotionless as it did when he was thinking about a very serious question. "We will find out **if**, and only **if**, the time comes."

* * *

**1557 Hours; March 5****th****, 2012; The Pentagon, Arlington County; Commonwealth of Virginia, United States of America**

(Conversations in this section are in English unless underlined)

The Joint Chiefs of Staff of the United States Armed Forces were seated around a long conference table. On the walls pictures of past major battles from the Battle of Bunker Hill to Campaign in Afghanistan, and there were pictures of past leaders from George Washington to Creighton Abrams.

At the head of the table was Admiral Maxwell Lafley, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He was a thin black man with thin reading glasses on as he read a report. He frowned as scratched the back of his head. He wore the dark navy blue uniform that the Navy wore during the winter months, or in areas of cold climates.

"Call commands coming online, sir, in 5-4-3-2-1-mark," called a petty officer.

On a series of flat screen TVs on the walls appeared various men and women in military uniforms.

"EUROCOM (European Command) reporting in, sir," said General Frank Kramer, Commander of US Forces in Europe.

"BALKANCOM (Balkans Command), sir," said Colonel Sean Davenport, commander of US Troops in the Balkans. A high ranking officer had commanded the relatively small sub-command of EUROCOM, but downsizing removed the need for an officer above an O-6.

"MDESTCOM (Middle East Command) here, Admiral," said Major General Danielle Fitzpatrick. The Middle East for a number of reasons was made its own independent command from the WSTASIACOM (West Asia Command). Fitzpatrick was an Air Force officer. She was in charge of security of US nuclear silos in Turkey, security and peacekeeping in Kurdistan, and joint counter-terrorism operations.

"Orders from the Commander-in-Chief, we're pulling out the remaining three battalions as planned. Colonel, your soldiers will get four months of leave in the States and then will send them to Turkey. General you wanted more soldiers on the Turkey-Armenia Border, right?" asked Admiral Lafley.

"Yes, sir. The usually problems are breaking out in the southern Soviet Union and now they seem to want to raid our armories. They've stolen at least 8 Stinger launchers and the Soviets are getting pissed about the Choppers they're losing to our SAMs," said Fitzpatrick.

"Do they work?" asked General Timothy McEwen, Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force. He was a little more interested in how well the FIM-92 Stinger was fairing against the current Soviet helicopters. He wore the dark sky blue of the USAF.

"The Reds have lost two Mi-24s, one Mi-17, and an old An-6 recon plane as it was taking off," reported Fitzpatrick, who was not as pleased that the Armenian militants were stealing US weapons to fight their own war of independence against Russia. Of course this was a small deal since Russia had exported hundreds of their SA-7s. The US just didn't like handhold SAMs in non-NATO, or outside of the ring of close US allies, hands. It was a huge fear among the US that terrorists would use them against commercial airliners.

"The Yukes are backing off some. Looks like we may have avoided a war," said General William Seidensticker, Commandant of the United States Marine Corps. He bore the olive drab and khaki uniform that served as the Marine Corps's B Class uniform. They only wore their blue full-dress uniform for very formal occasions.

"I think it's a little early make that call," said Admiral Benjamin Balm, head of the US Special Operations Command. "It's pretty volatile down there."

"I agree with you, Ben," said DIA Director Memarque. He was not present in the room, but on one of the monitors. "The Yugoslavians are doing a sweep and a lot of agents and operators are having to go underground for the time being."

"It also looks like they're trying to avoid being seen by my birds," said General Hitchcock, head of F2. "A KH-11 did catch a few in the open. Looks like they are continuing military exercises on a reduce level to avoid detection."

"Are we pulling out or not?" asked Colonel Davenport.

"We don't have a choice, Colonel. This was a decision made a long time ago between the politicians. Not unless we want to petition Congress," said General Gary Obrisky, Chief of Staff of the United States Army. Some of the generals and admirals laughed wryly at the joke. The military part-taking in politics was not only funny, but went against American ideals. Soldiers could be in politics as voting citizens, but it was strictly written that the military could not interfere with the political process.

"Maybe the DoD could ask, or the Senate Defense Committee," suggested Admiral Anthony Quinn, Chief of Naval Operations.

"And say what?" asked Seidensticker. "Look, my marines can go anywhere if asked, but we are all still taking bad press for Iraq. It's like the media has already forgotten Korea, those shitheads."

"… the media could be used," said McEwen.

"That's playin' with fire, Tim. The media isn't exactly the friends of the Armed Forces anymore than they are of the police or feds," said Quinn.

"And when it comes to it, those are my men and women in Kosovo," said Obrisky. "Bill, your Marines are elsewhere, Tim you planes hardly stay in Kosovo airstrips, and Tony… well its not you can drive a cruiser 30 miles inland. Kosovo has been my turf for months now. I have to ask myself, do I really want to keep my people in there? Yugoslavia could fall apart tomorrow."

"So what do you want to do, Gary?" asked Lafley.

"To pull all my soldiers out and put a green battalion in Kosovo. Unless someone thinks there is immediate danger, I want those experienced troops available for other things."

"Like what," asked Quinn.

"Don't know, but something always comes up. The 540th Infantry Battalion will take up its place. Davenport."

"Yes, sir?"

"You can stay and take charge of the 540th or you can come back State-side."

"… I think the 540th IB will need someone who knows this place, sir."

"They're all yours."

"What if the JNA does attack, Gary?" asked Seidensticker.

"Well, isn't quick response the job of the Corps?"

"We don't really have a plan at all, do we?" asked Lafley.

"We can't baby-sit the Kosovo forever. They have to stand on their on two feet and we can't be there forever."

"If the JNA attack, heads will role," said Lafley.

"We're soldiers, sir. We'll live."

* * *

**2100 Hours; March 7****th****, 2012; Undisclosed Location**

"Hello, Nazariy," said a man.

A dirty looking man sitting at a table looked up with contempt. They were in a windowless room with only a door and a two-way glass window.

"What brings you to the US?" asked the Jack Shinhachi.

"The sites," said Nazariy Andriyovych Shevchenko.

"You are Ukrainian, correct? Not Russian?" asked Jack politely but in a monotone.

"Da."

"Was it nice there?"

"Nice enough."

"What did you do there?"

"Things."

Jack sighed. Soviets were tough people. The cold, living conditions, KGB, Party, and everything less made them some of the hardest people in the world. Breaking them was hard, especially because they knew Americans were bound by a code of ethic. Jack didn't intend to use much physical force, but was prepared to mentally break this man.

"So, do you love your country?" asked Jack.

"Da."

"Which do you love more, the Soviet Union or the Ukraine?" asked Jack.

Shevchenko didn't answer. He knew this agent was probing for things to use against him.

"Perhaps you love the Rodina more. That you maybe hate your mother Ukraine. That you hate the fact that you are not a Russian and will never have the respect of those Greater Russians. Perhaps you hate that you are Ukrainian trash!" shouted Jack. Shevchenko stood up ready to attack, but Jack only stared emotionlessly. He'd gotten a rise from the KGB officer.

"So, are you proud of your heritage?"

"Da, I am a Slav, but I am a Ukrainian-Slav and a Ukrainian first," said Shevchenko proudly.

Jack nodded approvingly. "Being proud of your identity is something we respect in this country."

"Thank you," said Shevchenko, eyeing the American suspiciously.

"It must be hard, being a Ukrainian in the KGB," said Jack with a slightly sympatric tone.

"Not as hard as you think. There are many non-Russians in the KGB."

"You hate the Germans?"

"Eh?" exclaimed the Ukrainian. He didn't know what to say to this sudden question.

"You hate the Germans?"

"No."

"You worked for years against the Germans."

"Nothing personal, you know how it is," said Shevchenko.

Jack nodded. Shevchenko was now looking for Jack's agreement and understanding. He wanted Jack to think of him as his counterpart. Someone who lived and worked the same way as him. But Jack was the first person he'd seen in days.

"They are impressed by your work, GSG-9, BND, KSK, and MAD. They want a piece of you," said Jack, making a point that Shevchenko could be dead at the hands of the Germans for compromising their security and national secrets.

"When you are done with me, will I be turned over to the Germans?"

"Will get to that later," said Jack. "Why did you come to the US?"

Shevchenko didn't answer, but Jack could see he was starting to break.

"You love the Ukraine, right?"

"Da."

"Do you also love the Soviet Union?"

"…"

"Why did you join the KGB?"

Shevchenko looked up at him with anger. "Because I didn't want to be slave to the Russians!"

"So you choose to be a dog for the Russians," said Jack.

"I am no ones dog!"

"But you left Europe and came here on their orders."

"They said it was important and I would be greatly rewarded! They needed the best recon specialist and I, this Ukrainian that they would normally never give a second glance, was the one!"

Jack worked hard not to smile. Someone in the KGB told Shevchenko to come to the US for a mission. He was not here for a transfer or by chance. He had a purpose and someone had ordered him to come. Someone who knew they could manipulate this man by making him feel not only equal, but superior to the people who normally looked down on him.

"So some local officer ask-"

"No, it was orders from the top! The men in Moscow asked me to do this. They needed me."

"Who?" asked Jack with a raised eyebrow as if he doubted the man.

"They don't say. But I know it was from the Chairman's staff. The best only use the best," said Shevchenko proudly.

'He has no idea who ordered him, but can be certain it was from the top,' thought Jack.

"And they asked you to assist a communication officer, who is Russian. To serve an Eighth Directorate Russian."

"He worked for me. He was a failure from Afghanistan. They only assigned him to me because he was already in Washington," laughed Shevchenko.

'So, the Eighth Directorate man already was in DC. Interesting,' thought Jack. "You trusted him to report what you saw?"

"He worked well enough."

"But you got caught."

"It must have been that idiots fault."

"Breaking radio silence?"

"You don't already know?"

"Not all the agencies talk to each," said Jack, even though it had been him who had Shevchenko arrested. Though the Soviets thought the Americans were inefficient because they had 16 intelligence services and the Soviets only had two.

"He probably called in. He worried too much. He doesn't know how to trust people who aren't Russians."

Jack nodded. He could see Shevchenko starting to shut down. He was regaining control of himself and would soon realize that Jack had manipulated him. He would never answer any of Jack's questions again.

"Well, that's it for now."

Jack exited that room.

"Sir?" said an agent approaching him.

"Start searching for anything in Washington that looks like a spook. Look for new arrivals after 2009," ordered Jack.

"Understood, sir," said the agent with a salute.

* * *

**1000 Hours; December 10****th****, 1947; Unterschleissheim Deutsche Bundesbahn Bahnhof, Unterschleissheim; Bavarian Staat, Bundesrublik Deutscheland**

Mauhauser was impressed that the thinly armored Sherman had managed to fight its way to the German Federal Railway Station. Typical of most Europe stations there was a large open square in front of the main entrance where the finer shops and hotels were located.

"Herr Leutnant?" asked Mauhauser, tapping Pryce in the back of his helmet.

"You can call me Elijah, or Lij. Most people do. Und what do you want?"

"It is 10 O'clock. Did you not say the Tommies start their attack now."

"Scheisse (shit), they do. Well, I think we got Ivan's attention," laughed Pryce.

'That would be an understatement,' thought Mauhauser. She heard a loud bang and something smashed into the Sherman, but was stopped by the layers of sandbags mounted on the front of the tank.

'AT-rifle,' thought Mauhauser. She searched for the shooter. She heard a second shot and spotted a woman with a PTRD. With a single shot Mauhauser ended her life, but not before the Soviet fired a third shoot that cut through the second Sherman tank.

"Fuck, they got my gunner, Lij!" shouted 1st Sergeant Alfred Sykes.

"Calm down, Al. It ain't rocket science. One of the Krauts can do the job. Hell, one of them might just be a rocket scientist," joked Pryce.

'How can he laugh?' wondered Mauhauser. 'What is wrong with this Ami?"

"Jesus Christ! T-34!" screamed Tom.

"Shoot it!" shouted Pryce. Jasper fired the 3 inch gun. This was a high-velocity cannon the British started to equip to replace the weaker 75 mm that the Shermans originally used. Finding that the 75 mm couldn't penetrate German armor from the front… or at long range, the Americans followed the British lead and the M4E3s were armed with the 76.2 mm gun.

Unfortunately, the Soviet T-34 was designed to survive high-velocity munitions. The Germans loved using the Pak 38, a 50 mm AT-gun, that fired a high-velocity round that punctured armor and exploded inside the tank killing the crew or exploding the munitions and fuel. The T-34 had an angled front so round would bound off.

Pryce saw the 76.2 mm hit and ricochet off the front of the Soviet medium tank. He said in a horse voice, "Kate, run."

But Mauhauser couldn't. She stared in horror, like a deer caught in headlights (4), as the 76.2 mm gun on the T-34 wheeled towards them.

A rocket flew through the air and hit the T-34. A German paratrooper armed with a Panzerfaust had tried to kill the Soviet tank, but his rocket seemed to hardly phase it.

A second shot smashed into the T-34 and saw its insides catch fire. The M36 had taken a shot at the Russian tank with its 90 mm gun, the largest and deadliest AT-gun in the US arsenal.

"Hector…," said Pryce slowly as his breathing slowed down, "… I could kiss ya' full on the mouth."

"I'll pass, sir," said Staff Sergeant Hector Chavez.

"Jasper, take out that MG by the station entrance so the Krauts can take it. We'll link up with Her Majesties Dipsticks here," said Pryce.

"Copy that, Lij," said Sykes.

Jasper turned the turret to his left and took aim at a troublesome DShK heavy machine gun. He fired and watched for the cloud of dust and dirt to subside. Once it did he could see severed remains of human body parts leaving little to his imagination.

He fired a second shell into a ground floor window and he could just hear the screams of the Soviets as they were engulfed by the blast or battered by flying glass and steel shards.

The Germans gave a cheer and charged the station, still encountering sporadic rifle fire. Once the Germans got close, Jasper ceased using the main gun and fired his coaxial machine gun. Pryce took up the M2 mounted on top of the tank and fired .50 cals into the windows where he saw movement or muzzle flashes.

Mauhauser saw movement on the roof after a while and she was about to start 'knocking off helmets' when she saw one of the soldiers wave. They took down the Soviet flag from the roof and through it to the street below, much to the delight of the both the Germans and Americans. Next they raised a flag with three horizontal stripes: black, red, and yellow.

Next to it they raised a blue flag with a compass rose on it and the letters N-A-T-O on it.

"What's that flag?" asked Pryce.

"Which one?"

"Both."

Mauhauser frowned. "I understand you don't recognize Deutschland's new flag, but surely you know NATO's flag."

"Nien," said Pryce. He didn't even know NATO had a flag. NATO was so new he didn't know who was in it, what it was, what it did, why they had it, or everything. He only knew it was supposed to replace the Allied Alliance.

Mauhauser sighed. He seemed so hopeless to her. He was nice enough, but he just didn't seem to take his job seriously enough.

"Well, we won this place," he said with a wide smile.

She gave a small smile back. It was like his smile shone even through the war. "Ja, we did, didn't we."

* * *

**1811 Hours; March 10****th****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

The living room was alive with activity but deafly silent, except for the rustle of papers. Tenma, Eri, and Yakumo were studying for their final exams. Exams for Japanese schools came in mid-March. The third term would officially end either at the end March or the first day of April would. A short break would ensue and then the first term of the next academic year would start after roughly a week.

The Japanese followed a year-round schedule that started roughly around the 7th of April. Summer break was shorter than its American counterpart. Japanese did not get Easter or Christmas off because too few people were Christian in Japan to make it a nationally observed holiday like it was in the West. They did celebrate New Years Day, the Emperors birthday, the foundation of Japan by Emperor Jimmu in 660 BCE, the foundation of the Japanese Constitution in 1948, Emperor Hirohito's birthday, and other holidays that were either of Buddhist, Shinto, or Japanese traditions.

The three college students weren't the only ones studying. Mai, Sachiko, and Kousuke were studying hard. They had their junior high entrance exams that would come in the final week of March. They were hoping to get into Yagami Jr. High School, sister school to Yagami Elementary School and Yagami High School. It was ranked best among the junior high schools in Yagami.

Kenji too was studying, but it was for a military exam he'd have to take next weekend. He Federal Army apparently wanted its soldiers to be able to recognize all NATO rank insignias. That they could recognize the outlines of tanks, planes, and helicopters. He grumbled as his brain was starting to hurt was memorizing over 100 different insignias.

There was also a picture of the new Soviet aircraft carrier, the Ulyanovsk. It was an old carrier the Red Navy had started 1975, but cease work in 1991 due to inadequate funding (5). In 2011 the Northern Red Banner Fleet was given the funding to finish the Ulyanovsk and her sister ship, the Kremlin (6). Also the new Bolshevik Class battleship the Soviets were building and hoped to complete by 2014.

Why they wanted an Army man to be able to recognize Red Navy ships was beyond him.

"Mai-san, what do you here?" asked Kousuke.

Mai leaned over the math problem Ichijou Kousuke was stuck on. "You solve for one of the variables. Either X or Y. Then you plug it into the second problem and that will give you the intersect point."

"Oh…"

"Try this first," sighed Mai getting him started.

"Domo (thanks)."

"Ieie (no problem)."

'I still can't see what good that will do us in the future,' thought Kenji. He now understood the value of being able to read a graph since the production company stuck one in his face every time he walked into the door. He'd also learned the value of rates, such as the rate at which a bullet descends over a given distance.

He flipped through unit insignias. The US 1st Infantry Division's insignia was a big red one on a green should… in fact the division was nicknamed the Big Red One. The 2nd Infantry Division was an Indian chief's head. US tank divisions were easy because they were all a triangle with that was yellow, red, and blue, the black outline of a tank, and a number that said which division it was.

Yakumo reread the last paragraph. Business was probably one of the hardest courses she could have taken, next to getting a medical degree. Japan was a very competitive corporate market in which only the strong survived. She was having problems understanding some of the legal clauses of copywrite, but it only got more complex as it turned towards foreign markets it Japanese Federal Law had to be accounted for with North American and European Union laws. This was the easy part too because the United States and Canada had long standing trade agreements. Most of Europe adhered EU trade agreements, or the ones that Japan did business with. The hard part of Japanese-Chinese trade, one because Japan still refused to conduct trade with PRC. South Korea, Taiwan, and Japan had mutual joint trade agreements, similar to the US-Canadian ones.

And these were only media exchange laws for books, comics, magazines, newspapers, dictionaries, textbooks, and encyclopedias. They only demanded that the production company was named, where it was printed, the author, a company logo, copywrite date, and a serial number that could be traced to the printing company.

Games, movies, music, and other electronic media products came under government scrutiny and required a series of safe guards to be installed.

Eri too was reading about corporate business, but she was more interested in European Union laws since many of her family business ventures were based within EU members, primarily England. Naturally it would have to involve East Asia and North America too.

Tenma was deeply engrossed in the wars of the Heian Period (795 CE – 1185 CE), an ear of Japanese history known for being last period of classical Japanese history and the height of Confucianism and Chinese influence. It was also the last era of Imperial rule until the 1333. In the following era, the Kamakura Period (1185 CE – 1333 CE) marked the beginning of the Kamakura Shogunate. For three years was the Kemmu Period, or Kemmu Restoration, in which Emperor Kemmu ruled Japan. This was followed by the Muromachi Period (1336 CE – 1573 CE), which include the Sengoku Period, was the most famous wars and leaders in Japanese history. Then came the Azuchi-Momoyama Period (1568 – 1603) was when Oda Nobunaga seized Kyoto and was assassinated. Toyotomi Hideyoshi unified Japan and attempted an invasion of Korea… that failed… miserably. After Hideyoshi's death, his empire fell into civil war between the Tokugawa Clan and Toyotomi Clan. The Edo Period (1603 – 1868) was the Tokugawa Shogunate rule of Japan and the establishment of Edo as the capital. Finally came the start of Empire of Japan (1868 – 1945), with the Meiji Period (1868 – 1912) in which Imperial authority was reestablished. Then came the short Taishō Period (1912 – 1926). The Shōwa Period (1926 – 1989), the rule of Japan's most popular emperor, Emperor Hirohito, the end of the Empire of Japan, and the birth of the Federation of Japan (1948 – Present).

Not gifted with great intelligence in math or science, Tenma did understand history. She could remember the series of events, the major wars, the political shifts, the religious movements, the cultural revolutions, and the people who drove those moments. It was her strongest area and she adored it with a passion.

Mai, Sachiko, and Kousuke were facing the beginning of their junior high career. Tenma and Eri were facing the beginning of their third year of college, and Yakumo facing the beginning of her second.

Training schedules were being cancelled a number of units as they approached the spring raining season. The East and West seemed to have come to a settlement. Things had quieted down in the world. This whole thing was over and done with.

But a small feeling in his gut said it was only the beginning.

* * *

Okay, the truth is I got half way through this chapter and then had no idea what to write. So I just started writing stuff and started coming up with ideas as I went along... for instance the interrogation scene, which kinda' worked out.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. This is not a literal translation. If you watch funsub animes online you'll find that the subbers take some liberties in translations. This is to make them more accessible and understandable to the average person.

2. Amis is a nickname the Germans use to refer to Americans. Tommies is a nickname for the British.

3. Technicians were a series of ranks from World War II that were discontinued after the war. There is Technician Fifth Grade (T/5) is a rank on the same pay-grade as a corporal, but does not have command authority equal to a corporal. T/4 is pay-grade equal to Sergeant and can command people up to corporal, but below sergeant. T/3 is equal in pay-grade to Staff Sergeant. Technical Sergeant is equal in pay to Master Sergeant and First Sergeant. These ranks in 1955 were replaced by Specialist ranks. By the 1990s all the grades of the specialist ranks were eliminated except for Specialist which was basically a Technician Fifth Grade.

4. The fact I'm using this phrase reminds me that I watch too much Blue Comedy Tour (I love Jeff Foxworthy and Bill Engvall) and reminds me that I have too many redneck friends. If you don't know, if you catch a deer, or another animal that tends to be more active at night than during the day, with a bright light the animal tends to freeze in place. People do the same thing when they see impending death coming at them. You're so shocked you can't think what to do, let alone move.

5. The Ulyanovsk Class was a super carrier the Soviets were working on in the 1970s through 1980s. Production ceased in 1991 because the Cold War ended and the Soviet Union fell. In 1992 it was scrapped. It could hold 70 planes: 27 x Su-33 Flankers (Su-27K) or MiG-29K Fulcrums, 10 x Su-25UGT Frogfoots or SU-39 Frogfoots, 4 x Yak-44s, and 15 to 20 x Ka-27 Helixs. Ulyanovsk is the name of the town Vladimir Lenin was from.

6. The second Ulyanovsk, as far as I know, was never named. I called it the Kremlin because that was the original name they had planned on calling the Ulyanovsk Class, but later changed.


	9. Chapter 9: Sacred Land

Can't believe how many words are posted and I'm not even at chapter 10. I figure that most of ya'll are looking for action, so I hope I'm not boring any one, but I am trying to set the atmosphere and give you a reason why there will be a war.

I don't own any trademarked or copywrite item. Please leave a review and/or tell a friend… seriously, leave a review boys… and girls… do I have female readers? … cause surely there are women out there who would enjoy this story… right?

* * *

**Chapter 9: Sacred Land**

"I am prepared to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter."

British Prime, Sir Minister Leonard Spencer-Winston

**1025 Hours; March 21****st****, 2012; downtown, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Kenji was wondering around the showroom of a Mitsubishi dealership. As much as he loved his bike, he had to consider the fact that he had a family now and his motorcycle was not an appropriate mode of transportation all the time… especially for four people. This was something Tenma, Yakumo, Mai, and Kenji had decided on during a family meeting that the four of them needed a mode of transportation.

"May I help you, Onii-san (young man) (1)," asked a salesman. He eyed Kenji suspiciously and wondered if he should call 119 (2).

"Ee, I was thinking about buying a car. I live with my little sister, my girlfriend and her sister. I have a motorcycle, but you know… a car might be useful," said Kenji shrugging.

"Of course," agreed the salesman. He was still suspicious, but like any good salesman he didn't want to ruin a potential sale. "So, what do you for a living?"

"I'm a manga-ka, and I'm in the Army reserve," said Kenji. He pulled out his wallet and showed his Army ID.

'PFC Harima, Kenji. DoB: December 1st, 1992. Unit: 6th Infantry Division, 14th Reserve Infantry Brigade; 81st Heliborne/Armor Regiment, 27th Infantry Battalion. Activated: May 12, 2010,' read the salesman. On the back were notices for medals, citations, and awards. He was fairly well decorated. The salesman smiled, having served in a battery regiment himself that was attached to the 6th Division. "I was in the 213th Artillery Battalion."

"I think you guys dropped 155s on us when we were taking Sanyo," said Kenji.

"That was the 214th, the morons attached to the 10th Infantry. We were a rocket artillery battalion. So, how about this. The Eclipse series is quite a popular car around the world."

"Mmm… well I need something that looks both good… and is practical," said Kenji. 'Good and practical? Shit I feel old.' "Also something that handles well in the snow and ice."

"That has more to due with the tires you use than the car."

'Just as long as I don't go like Oto-san," thought Kenji.

In the end, Kenji had settled on a four-door sedan. It was about 400,000-en, roughly the equivalent of 4,000 dollars. Normally the salesman wouldn't help what appeared to be a very easily manipulated person, however that seemed like stabbing a brother in the back.

"Well, Harima-san, I hope you and your family enjoy this car," said the salesman waving as Kenji started the engine.

Kenji drove down the street for home. However he got a little lost since he was use to taking the train, or walking.

"Kenji-san!" greeted Tenma when he finally pulled into the driveway. "You found a car."

"Ee. Now we finally have a family vehicle," he said with a smile.

"Can I drive?" asked Tenma enthusiastically.

Kenji sweat-dropped and laughed nervously. He'd just spent a good portion of his savings for a car. "Y-you… need a license first, Tenma-san."

While Kenji silently prayed that no office of the Road Transportation Bureau (3) would ever give Tsukamoto Tenma a valid license to operate a motorized vehicle, Tenma examined the car. She was having her anime/manga induced fantasies of her drag-racing and being in action movie-style high speed chases with police and yakuza with lots of explosions and guns. Seeing the zoned-out look on her face, Kenji made a note to hide the keys. Being over Tenma had enabled Kenji to better read her since he judgment was no longer clouded by her… well too clouded, she was his sister-in-law of sorts. Also, living with Tenma for over a year had taught him a thing or two about her and her eccentric behavior like on Tanabata when he left her alone with some fireworks… he still had some burns from that fiasco.

"So, Tenma-san… did you make the preparations?" asked Kenji.

"Eh? Oh, hai! I remembered," she said slamming a fist against her chest to show her focus. "This is for Yakumo-chan's birthday. I will combine the full might of my Onee-chan Powa' with your Boyfriend Powa'!"

"Right!" said Kenji striking a pose with her.

"Baka," said Eri watching them from the door.

"Oi, we didn't ask for your opinion," said Kenji annoyed.

"So you don't want my money for weekend?"

"… but your opinions are still valued deeply," said Kenji with a nervous laugh.

"Nice save," she said. "Now let me ask you this, do you remember what happens this Sunday?"

"I actually do," said Kenji proudly. "The wedding."

It was lucky that Kenji was a battle-harden veteran, because a lesser man would not be able to survive the intense schedule for the coming 72 hour period.

There had been some changes. One was that Natsuyami family had offered them an excellent deal cash-wise since the Natsuyamis wouldn't be out any money considering the number of people coming. Two, it was Kyoto, the old capital, what was a better place for a traditional Japanese wedding that Mikoto and Haruki wanted? Three was that it was at an old inn with onsen (hot springs).

"Got everything?" asked Tenma in an unusually serious manner for her.

"Hai. I had to ask Oka-san for a loan to buy it," said Kenji a little ashamedly. "Speaking of Oka-san, she'll be coming too."

"Misete kudasai (please show me)," asked Eri curiously.

Kenji produced a small royal-blue felt covered box and delicately passed it to her. Tenma and Eri put their hands together and carefully open the box. Although they already knew what was inside, they let out a slight gasp of awe upon seeing in spite of themselves.

* * *

**0645 Hours; March 21****st****, 2012; Shinhachi Compound, Kirkland; Washington State, United States of America**

Jack took a seat at the kitchen table with his family. His Jim Shinhachi was reading the Wall Street Journal as usually. Louise Shinhachi was on her laptop. Kathleen Shiratori was reading a report from her law firm and simultaneously telling her children, Jennifer and Steven, to eat their eggs. Edward Shiratori placed a plate in front of his brother-in-law, Jack, before going back to the stove. Emma was quietly reviewing her manga on the NATO-Soviet War.

Jack picked up the remote control and turned on the small kitchen TV to the BBC World News.

He took a sip of coffee, looked up at the screen, and spat it out across the kitchen floor.

"… o-oh… Christ…," was the most intelligible words to come out of his mouth as he continued to cough and splutter. Jack's family looked up at him with concern.

"We continue with our top story. It is confirmed that now government officials were harmed in the explosion that rocked Belgrade this morning," said a female reporter for the BBC. "For those of you just tuning in, at 5:17 a.m. local time, a bomb exploded in the Executive Assembly Building killing 23 people. The bomb went off at a time when security was at its lowest. A number of the Yugoslavian government workers and officials start their days early and would have been killed, but the bomb was discovered by a custodian. Before the evacuation was completed the bomb detonated."

"Please don't say Kosovars did it," pleaded Jack. "I know you'll say, but please don't."

"There is speculation that this was done by radical Kosovar militants in response to the earler attack on top Kosovar officials last month."

"I knew it," said Jack groaning into his hands. He ran the scenarios through his head: A) take it at face value that this was an attack by a Kosovar terrorist cell, which was autonomous of their government, for revenge. B) This was done by Kosovar Government for revenge. C) This was staged by the Yugoslavians to justify a war and invasion. D) This was the work of a third-party to create tension between the Republic of Kosovo and Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Either way, this was a purposeful attack directed at the Yugoslavians, maybe indirectly at the Kosovars. It was not an accident… or else the perpetrators had to be the incompetent people in the world. This was the disaster that could send both sides past the breaking point and straight into military conflict.

Jack's phone rang. He answered it and said without bothering asking who it was, "Yeah I'm watching the news… no he didn't say anything about a team in Belgrade… it could be Kosovars, but I don't know yet… you want me where?"

Jack's family stared at him open mouthed. They didn't get to see Jack in action very often.

"Yes, sir," he said hanging up. "Emma, can turn these over to Professor Yin for me?"

"Sure," sighed Emma. "Where are you going this time?"

"Nowhere. They just want all agents in their offices and then there'll probably be a briefing tonight," said Jack grabbing his plate and heading upstairs for his home office.

"Anything you want to tell us about this?" asked Jim Shinhachi, Jack's father.

"… I may be in my room for a few days," said Jack.

* * *

**1219 Hours; December 10****th****, 1947; ****Unterschleissheim Deutsche Bundesbahn Bahnhof, Unterschleissheim; Bavarian Staat, Bundesrublik Deutscheland**

"Now this is eatin'," said 2nd Lt. Pryce. There was nothing like good meat. The French and English never seemed to appreciate that like the Germans did… well the English couldn't cook to save their lives, the Welsh weren't much better, the Irish were more famous for alcohol and famines than food, and the Scottish food just plain scared Pryce.

He made no attempt to eat with proper table manners. He just used his hands and occasionally used the fork and knife that came with his Army issue mess-kit.

"This sure beats K-rations by a long shot," said Pryce.

"_Was_ (what)?" asked Mauhauser, who was trying not to stare at Pryce's eating habits.

"We don't usually get to eat like this. That's why we love Germany."

"We love it because it's our home," said Mauhauser dryly. "It may not have big skyscrapers like your home, but it's our home."

Pryce stared at her, trying to make sure he understood her right. Then he broke out laughing.

"What's so funny, Herr Pryce?"

"Kate, I ain't from the big city. I'm from what we call in the Staats (states), the middle of nowhere. Ever heard of Cheyenne?" he asked.

"Nein," she said shaking her head. She knew several American cities like New York, Washington DC, Boston, Chicago, San Francisco, and St. Louis, but she'd never heard of Cheyenne.

"You heard of Wyoming?"

"Is that a city?"

Pryce laughed and pulled out a postcard from his jacket pocket with a map of the US on the front. "It's a staat. A staat where there are more cows and horses than people. Cheyenne is the capital, down here in the southeast corner. Half mein family works on ranches and the rest on the Union Pacific Railroad… well use to."

"Eh?"

"Pa died in some place called Saipan. One of mein brunder (brother) died in a place called 'Iwa Jimo'… no that's not right… Iwo Jima. Uncle Chuck died on Omaha Beach. Uncle Phil was a B-17 tail-gunner and was blown up over Berlin. Uncle Ralphy died in a place called Anzo or Asio-"

"Anzio?" asked Mauhauser.

"That's it… how'd you know that?"

"Mein vatar died there. Mein cousin Fredrich died in St. Lo-"

"St. Lo? I was there," said Pryce. "That was my first battle."

Mauhauser winced. Her cousin was killed by an American tank. The chances they were the same person were too unlikely and impossible to prove, but it made her go cold.

"I wasn't there for D-Day. I arrived about a week later and I was in St. Lo, Cherbourg, the Falaise Pocket, charged all the way to the Belgian border, the Hurtgen Forest, the Ardennes, we took Cologne, the Eble River, then… the Dora-Mittelbau Camp. We were near a place called Dessau when the war ended," said Pryce happily as he listed the places he been in the 3rd Armored Division, known as the Spearhead or Third Herd. Then his face turned dark, "But they said our regiment would be the last to pull out. We moved a little south because Dessau was on the Russian's side of Germany. Then the Reds attacks and I'm stuck here."

"What would you be doing if you weren't here?"

"Helping mein mutter (my mother) sell sandwiches and coffee to passengers and railroad workers at the station. Where we were was in between the huge yard at North Platte, Nebraska and the yard at Ogden, Utah. The only places where they can refuel or repair these big engines, and I mean **big**, is Laramie, Green River, and Cheyenne. So there were a lot of engineers and crews looking for good food. It's just her now and my sisters, aunts, female cousins, and my two brothers and the other men who weren't old enough to go to war. If I live, I'll be one of three men in my family who came back in one piece," said Pryce as he lit up a cigarette. He sighed in a depress manner. Without asking, Mauhauser took one from his pack and lit it on the small candle on the table they were eating at. She took a drag and gagged.

"I take it you don't smoke," said Pryce. American cigarettes tended to be much better than any other because they grew their own tobacco. It was little wonder you could trade almost anything for a few packs of cigarettes.

"Herr Pryce, where did you learn German?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Ol' man Liebermann. He said I couldn't lose my ol' accent despite his efforts, which is why I probably sound kinda' funny to ya'," said Pryce. "It'd sound better if ya' understood English."

'They didn't exactly teach English in my town,' thought Mauhauser. Half way through elementary school the Nazis took over and she was then taught about why Arians and Nordic-Germans were better than the Slavs, Jews, Gypsies, Poles, and Communist. At the time it seemed to make sense the way it was presented to her and her friends. She wanted to beat the Americans and English and to see the Russians annihilated. Two years ago, however Mauhauser and the rest of Germany had a rude awakening when the camps were found. She still wondered why it seemed to make so much sense then. "So, you are a Leutnant?"

"I was a platoon sergeant (4), but our LT bought the farm during the push for Bastonge."

"Bought the farm? He bought a farm?" asked Mauhauser unable to imagine even an American doing something so strange during a battle.

"It means he died."

"…how does that make sense?" asked Mauhauser. "I grew up on a farm und-"

She clamped her mouth shut. She never shared anything about her home.

"Really, where?"

Mauhauser sighed. What would it hurt, it wasn't like she'd have to be around him forever and he'd said some imitate things about his life. "It was a tiny milk farm west of Passau, that is almost on the Austrian border and near the Czech border."

"I'm guessing Ivan paid your home a visit," said Pryce.

"Ja."

There was a knock at the door.

"Hello?" called out a voice in English.

"Come'n," said Pryce. A Hispanic man with a Star of David hanging around his neck with his dogtags entered. He had a M1A1 Thomson sub-machine gun at his hip. "You don't have ta' knock, son. Tha' door was nearly blown off its hinges."

"Staff Sergeant Solomon, sir. 4th ID," said Solomon saluting.

"Nice of ya'll to join us. How's Munich?" asked Pryce conversationally.

"Not so good after Ivan started bombing us."

"Well, I'm Lt. Pryce, and this here is Kate Ma'hasa'. I think she's an oberstabsgefrieter… or something like that," said Pryce.

"That's a corporal, sir," said Solomon. "Our lieutenant wants to link up with the Brits."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll get my tin cans movin'," said Pryce standing up. "Let's go Kate, the 4th Division's here and they want to link up with the British."

"I will tell Herr Hauptmann Edelstein," said Mauhauser.

"What do ya'll have?" asked Pryce.

"Most of our platoon is in tact. We have about 37 guys. About two Bazookas, three radios, and two .30 cals between us," said Solomon as they walked outside of the bar that Mauhauser and Pryce had been eating inside of.

"Right, we have three tank destroyers and four Shermans. The Captain Edelstein's got about 120 paratroopers. Most of them have sub-machine guns and those new rifles-sub-machine-gun-things, Sturmgwehr I think. Also he's got a bunch of Panzerfausts an' some MG42s. I'm planning on splitting up into two groups. Ya' can go with 1st Sergeant Robby Wellington, or with me."

"Where are all your officers?" asked Solomon.

"Uh, they got 1st Lieutenant Corroders on the first day of the war. 2nd Lieutenant Martin bought it in mid-June. Captain Bullworthe was picked off by sniper when Ivan was first pushing for this place. You 4th Infantry guys may not have notice being in what was until two weeks the ago the rear, but we're losin' this war, and men left and right with it."

Solomon frowned. Pryce had been on the front lines since the Soviets first crossed into West Germany back in March. He'd watched men come, fight, and die. He saw his friends get dragged off on stretchers, carts, coffins, and, in a few cases, in matchboxes. Solomon hadn't seen battle since the last war ended… and had see a shit load of fighting from the day he landed on Utah Beach to the day they took Miesbach, a town around 70 km south of their current position in the German Alps.

Pryce climbed onto his tank and the female sniper soon rejoined him. "Serge!"

Solomon looked up at him.

"I hope you can run fast if we have to retreat, 'cause Ivan doesn't like to give ground and they will take it at any cost. To this day I haven't seen a successful counter-attack."

"What's your definition of one?" asked Solomon.

"One that doesn't involve us retreating," said Pryce deadpanned.

Mauhauser listened to this exchange. She was leaning towards a friend of hers who was whispering a translation of the conversation between Pryce and Solomon. In her mind she wondered who was the real Pryce, this one or the joking one she'd seen all morning. She had never heard an America admit they were losing the war.

"Herr Pryce?"

"What is it, Kate?" he asked not looking at her and sounding defeated.

"You said you thought we won," she said.

"I thought that too around the end of March, and again in May and in June. We never do win. Give it a week. Ivan will come back in greater numbers and we retreat. Munich will fall by New Years. This time next year they'll be on the Rhine and looking for entry into France. They never send us enough men. No new divisions ever come. Now that our planes are grounded for the winter the Reds will advance even faster," said Pryce emotionlessly. "Even if we do win, I'll be dead. Only my Uncle Nick and Cousin Rick made it home. The rest either can't see, lost a leg, or an arm. No one in my family who has fought two wars, lived to tell the tale. I fought in one war and this is my second… I won't see home."

"Why do you laugh?"

"I might as well as enjoy my last days," he said with a laugh. "Let's get movin' ya'll."

Solomon was walking down the streets of Unterschleissheim. Experience told him to watch for ambushed from upper-storey windows. He saw an old man in an alley, he was pointing up the street and mouthing something. Solomon released the safety on his gun and held it at his shoulder.

"Hey, Hank, you see anything ahead?" Solomon asked PFC Howard Binder.

"Nope," said Binder. He had his M1 Garand at the ready anyways.

"Looks like that Kraut sniper sees something," said Pvt. Andrew Spencer. Binder and Spencer both trained their Garands up the street with no idea what they were looking at.

A machine gun opened fire, but Mauhauser silenced it. Two more MGs opened fire, as did several riflemen. Solomon started shooting bursts at the muzzle flashes of Russian guns.

"Hey, Solomon, take your squad and clear out that building. I can't leave my Jackson exposed to their infantry!" shouted Pryce.

"Whatever you say, Lieutenant!"

Solomon dashed into an alley and started heading up a back street. He and his 9 men were making their way up the alley.

"I think this is the place," said Binder.

"I'll blow the door open, sir," said Smith raising his M1918A2 Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR), a heavy, but powerful gun. It weight nearly 20-pounds and had a massive recoil. The original model had a bipod, but Smith like most men had taken it off to make it a few ounces lighter. It fired 20 .30-06 cartridges. It was feared by anyone who was on the receiving end of it because it was powerful and accurate.

"Uh, Smith," said Binder.

"I got this."

"No really," said Spencer. Smith turned around and saw a middle-age woman with a set of keys standing behind him.

"Bitte (please)," she said holding up the keys. They stood aside and she unlocked the door.

"Thanks, ma'am," said Solomon as she retreated into the building across the alley. Solomon went first with a second man armed with a Thomson and a third man armed with a Winchester M1 carbine. Up the hall a Russian emerged carrying containers of machine gun belts. He saw the Americans and he fumbled for the rifle slung over his back, but the belts got in his way. Solomon fired a burst of 45s at him. The Russian dropped the MG belts collapsed into the wall. He was clutching his stomach with blood dripping out from between his fingers.

"Misha, where are you? We need those bullets now," said a man emerging from another room. He saw the man on the floor. His eyes widened and he wielded the rifle in his hands to face the Americans he knew must be behind him. Solomon fired. The man fired off a shot, but went two feet too high. The soldier with Solomon fired his Thomson and finished the second Russian.

"Jake, you go to that door. Sounds like there is an MG in there and- look out!" shouted Solomon firing at a third Russian who had noticed the dead man in the doorway. He hit Jake in the shoulder and jumped back. Solomon loaded a fresh clip and jumped in front of the door firing all 30 rounds into the room and then taking cover on the other side.

"One MG, maybe five guys in there," he called to his squad. A grenade then flew out of the room and into the hall. The man with the carbine jumped on it and knocked it back into the room. As he moved to get clear of the door he was shot in the side and he went down. Solomon saw his eyes moving around. He was alive, but playing dead so the Russians wouldn't finish him. Solomon pointed at Jake and Smith and then pointed at the door.

Solomon and Jake popped into the doorway and fired their Thomsons while Smith fired his BAR. Solomon true out a KA-Bar and entered the room with a smoking Thomson as his hip (5). A Russian hiding behind the door popped out armed with a Nagant-Mosin with bayonet mounted. Solomon jumped out of the way, he grabbed the man's shoulder, spun him around, and slit his throat.

"Jesus, Serge. You sure know how to use that knife," said Spencer.

Solomon just loaded a fresh clip into his Thomson. Solomon went up stairs with Binder and Spencer behind him. They approached an open door and saw a second machine gun team, along with four riflemen.

"Fire in the hole," he said quietly as he tossed a Mk. II frag grenade inside. He heard a scream as the grenade exploded and he charged in gun blazing. Binder and Spencer charged in behind him firing their Garands at the Russians until their depleted clips ejected with a ringing noise.

Heading downstairs he saw that the man with the carbine had bled out. Jake opened the front door and stood back. He looked around for danger and jumped back.

"Fuck, O'Keith, tell those Charlie Company idiots to stop shooting at us!" said Corporal Jake Brown to Technician 4th Grade Patrick O'Keith.

"On it," said T/4 O'Keith, the squad's radioman.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout ya'll," said Pryce when O'Keith relayed the message. "Cease fire guys, those are our boys ya'll are shootin' at!"

"Fuck, O'Keith, tell your Serge he doesn't want to come out yet. Ivan has a T-28 coming," said Pryce. "Jasper, any time now would be nice!"

Mauhauser looked into her scope. She saw the Soviet tank commander in his black uniform and a brown leather cap. She saw the hated face of the Soviet tank troops that had burned everything they met in the first week of the war. How she hated tanker. Those bastards that had laid waste to home… she hated tankers. Ironically, Pryce hated snipers because most of his family members had been killed by Imperial Japanese Army and Wehrmacht snipers.

'Die,' she said in her mind as she fired a 7.92x57 mm round into his head. Jasper fired a shell at the Soviet tank. The Soviets fired its 76.2 mm gun at the American tank and hit Sgt. Sykes's tank. Jasper fired a second shell and blow half the turret off the T-28.

"Al, ya' still with me?" asked Pryce.

"Yeah, the sandbags took most of the blast, but I think my driver wet himself," said Sykes.

"Great and- holy shit, JS-3!" shouted Pryce. "Hector, shoot it!"

Sgt. Chavez ordered his gunner to fire their 90 mm gun the deadly JS-3 heavy tank. It was a slow, but heavily armed and armored piece of Soviet machinery. It had as much as 5 inches of armor on its front and it could take a lot of damage. It was supposed to survive direct hits from German 88 mm guns.

"Jasper, Al! Fire!" shouted Pryce. "Kate, you really don't want to be here."

He said this quietly and in calm, but intensely frightened voice.

The Josef Stalin heavy tank fired its lethal 122 mm gun, but missed Pryce's tank. He looked over his shoulder and saw at least five German paratroopers disappear in the blast and a building collapse. The Americans hit it repeatedly, but the Soviet tank didn't seem to be phased by it.

"Al, can you flank it?!" asked Pryce.

"Don't think so- fuck he's aiming my way!" said 1st Sergeant Sykes.

"Jasper, it's exposing the side of its turret! Kill it! Al, get out of there!"

Pryce's tank and Chavez's tank destroyer both fired and blow a hole in the side of the turret. The JS-3 backed up and quickly withdrew. The Russian infantry threw smoke grenades to make a smoke screen. Pryce hadn't planned on pursuing it anyways.

"Lieutenant, you okay?" asked Sgt. Solomon.

"… yeah…"

He knew the JS-3 tank's shells were deadly high-explosive rounds that were effective against bunkers and trenches. It had leveled two buildings before it had withdrawn.

"I'll be damned, we lived. Take us forward, Tom. Captain Dawson's company shouldn't be far ahead," said Pryce in his usually cheerful western-American accent, even though he looked very pale… even a little green.

"Herr Pryce, you lived through this battle," said Mauhauser. She was unnerved by the grin that was mixed with the intense look of fear.

"Ja, but the war ain't over, Kate."

* * *

**1011 Hours; March 21****st****, 2012; Ministry of Defense Building, Belgrade; City of Belgrade District, Socialist Republic of Serbia; Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia**

"This means war!" screamed Osam Čolaković, Serbian President.

"I have to agree with Comrade Čolaković," said President of Croatia Dalis. "This was directed at the Yugoslav leadership and intended to sever our people's government. This is an obvious act of war."

"Unusual for Croats and Serbs to agree," said Celje, President of Slovenia. "We should however give the Kosovars an ultimatum, first."

"To humor the West?" asked Dalis. "Kosovo attacked us. They murdered our citizens and terrorized this city! Why should we wait just because the West thinks it looks polite?!"

"Even the Americans didn't charge straight into Iraq, Comrade President Dalis," said Foreign Minister Uzunović. "Besides, most of the men going to the front are Serbs. I would like to avoid needless loses of good Serbs."

"There are plenty of Croats in the JNA, Comrade Minister, but I think waiting will show weakness," said Dalis.

"The Armed Forces appreciates your position," said Minister of Defense Marinković. "But as Comrade Minister Uzunović has explained to me that if we make a diplomatic effort, we may not have to spill any of our peoples' blood in fighting the West. The West may actually have to accept our position if the Kosovars are the aggressors."

"Gentlemen, we put it to a vote. All for making full preparations for military engagements with the Kosovars raise your hands," said President Mikosvić. All the ministers and presidents of the Yugoslav Republics raised their hands.

"All for giving the Kosovars a chance to surrender unconditionally," said Mikosvić. Dalis and a few ministers didn't raise their hands, but enough did to make it a majority vote.

"Don't worry Comrade Dalis. I will make sure that Yugoslavia's position will be clear and unswayable to Western, Soviet, or Kosovar opinions. Kosovo will return to Serbia and Yugoslav authority or be crushed by the People's Army!" thundered Mikosvić.

* * *

**2109 Hours; March 21****st****, 2012; CIFA Shooting Range, Seattle; Washington State, United States of America**

Jack walked into the range carrying a case with him. Jason was already there toying around with a Barrett M98B bolt-action sniper rifle, also known as the 98 Bravo. It was a relatively new sniper introduced by Barrett Firearms Company in 2008. It fired the .338 caliber (8.58x70 mm) Lupua Magnum.

Jason loved bolt-action rifles. He loved the feel of it, the precision, and control that semi-automatics just didn't seem to offer. His personal favorites were the Accuracy International AW, SIG-Sauer SSG 3000, the Cheytec Intervention, and, the rifle he first learned to shoot with, the M24, the US Army's version of the Remington 700.

The range was underground and was 400 meters long. Jason practiced with targets the size of playing cards since his rifles could shoot targets over 800 m away.

Jack opened the case to reveal some of his handgun collection. He pulled out a Browning Hi-Power, a classic that was first introduced in 1926. Like the M1911A1 it was a very old handgun that was still in service with several militaries. He popped in a 13-round 9x19 mm magazine into it and started to fire.

Next he pulled out an old Colt M1873 single-action army revolver, one of the most famous handguns to exist. It was popularly known as the Colt Peacemaker. It could fire six .45 caliber rounds, weighed 1048 g, had an 5 ½ inch barrel, and an effective range of 25 m. Jack loved the feel of revolvers. They were more reliable than semi-autos, didn't eject casings, could handle very powerful cartridges, if they had long barrels they could be more accurate, and were simple to maintain. The only drawback was that they were slow to load and had smaller clip capacity than semi-automatics.

He cocked the hammer and fired. Single-action only required that the hammer be cocked for the first round and then it could be fired continuously afterwards. Like most guns of its era it had a loading gate which only allowed one round be loaded at a time.

Right briefly looked to left and saw that Jason had disassembled the 98 Bravo and was inspecting each individual part. Jack knew his best friend made thorough inspections of each of his rifles and could recite how to disassemble, reassemble, and service sniper rifles in his sleep. He knew every part by sight and name. Knew all the parts wear-rate, what they were mode of, what they could be replaced with, and all their functions. Jason also knew all the stats and chemical make-ups sniper cartridges and match grade ammo.

Jack knew pretty much the same things, but for handguns and several shotguns. He then pulled out his personal favorite, the Colt M1911A1. The Colt 45 was a single-action handgun. It had to be manually cocked and chambered. It was made before double-action (6) breach-lock started coming out. The Walther P38 was the first breach-lock double-action pistol and it was made in 1938.

To both of them, this kind of knowledge had kept them alive longing that other field agents and their counterparts in the KGB and PLAIB (People's Liberation Army Intelligence Bureau).

Killing time at the shooting range was how they spent their time when they were on call. The state of emergency had been lowered for the counter-intelligence community, but neither of them could turn their phones off or be more than 20 miles from office.

"Maya joining us?" asked Jason.

"Nope, she's over in QCTR," said Jack. The CQTR was an abbreviation for Close Quarters Training Room. It was where they practiced hand-to-hand combat, martial arts, and knife fighting. While Jack had handguns and Jason had sniper rifles, Maya loved knives. She loved the Kampfmesser 2000, Eickhorn Bayonet 2005, and her most treasured weapon, a KA-BAR. The knife had belonged to her great-grandfather who been a marine in the US Expeditionary Force back in 1918. Her grandfather had used in World War II. Then her father used it during the Vietnam War back in 1987 until he was discharged at the end of 1968. Maya had once said that she and her grandfather were the only members of her family who were in the military and had not joined the United States Marine Corps. They had been the only ones in the US Army.

"Read about the new future soldier system the Soviets are putting into service?"

"Yup, and I was impressed they were willing to spend that kind of money," said Jason.

"It's just a helmet intergraded with short-range communication radio and a mount for night-vision goggles," said Jack.

"Sounds more practical than our system. I mean really, intergrading a computer system like that. The battery won't even last long enough for full wartime conditions. Marines, army rangers, airborne infantry, they'll be out in the field for days, even weeks."

"Give them time, Jason. Probably by 2030 they'll have it worked out," said Jack. The Future Warrior System was supposed to be fully functional by 2032 in the United States Armed Forces.

"When we're 44, Jack, and probably behind desks."

"Exactly why we should be more worried about the here and the now. You spoken to your friends Albanian?" asked Jack.

"Yeah and they were just as shocked as the rest of us. It's weird, Jack. This came out of nowhere. Groups are claiming responsibility like the Kosovo National Liberation Front and Kosovars United Against Serbia Alliance, but its just a pile of shit," said Jason. "Jack, Maya and I have run down all our leads across Yugoslavia. I checked in Albanian, Greece, Kosovo, Bosnia, Croatia, Slovenia, Macedonia, Montenegro… I even checked fucking Serbia. Maya asked her friends Haman (7), Shin Bet, Sayeret Matkal, and Massod, that's basically every intel and spec ops service in Israel. She called her old assets in Afghanistan and Pakistan. I asked around our all friends in Chechnya and the Caucasus Mountains… hey what have you been doing?"

"Calling up BND, KSK, MAD, and even GSG-9. Still waiting to hear from Naicho," said Jack.

"You called the Japanese?"

"They have agents in Europe and they're good at hearing things because no one expects them to be there."

"Who haven't we called?" asked Jason.

"The British, I think," said Maya as she entered the shooting range. She was sweaty from her exercises and had a towel draped around her neck. "That or the Soviets and Chinese."

"Waiting on the British," said Jack. "The resent incident with Gin's cousin made me a few contacts in SIS. The PLAIB says they don't know a thing and the KGB, GRU, and MVD… well they don't know a thing as usual."

"So they may know something then," said Maya picking up on the words not said.

"Hey, how did you get China to talk?" asked Jason.

"I do a very convincing imitation of an angry bureaucrat. Basically act like Oto-sama when he's grilling bank managers for fraud or gross-negligence, but yell in Mandarin," laughed Jack.

"Okay. Maya, check the Community's operations, assets, and safehouses, make sure nothing is compromised. Jack, do a sweep of our community, make sure this isn't the CIA or NSA work. I'll call the Activity's home office and see if they have any new leads," said Jack.

* * *

**0700 Hours; March 23****rd****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Yakumo ran downstairs. Someone had turned off her alarm and she had overslept. The last time that had happened was also her birthday and her sister had set fire to Yakumo's kitchen. Even though it was technically their parent's house, Yakumo had always thought of the kitchen as hers and personally she disliked other people using it. It was her workspace where she was unmatched and would feel totally at peace. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that when she was cooking, Yakumo knew Tenma was either doing schoolwork or watching TV and not setting fire to whatever was on the stove.

She entered the kitchen with her eyes shut tight, completely afraid to know what destruction had befallen her beloved kitchen.

"Ano, Yakumo-chan, daijobu?" asked Eri walking in behind her.

"Dame desu ka (is it bad)?" asked Yakumo.

"You can open your eyes. We're taking you out to breakfast. Tenma didn't destroy your kitchen, and I have been taking cooking lessons so you don't have to worry about me," said Eri dryly.

"But my classes-"

"Don't worry about that. Your professors think your ill and they assured us that there won't be any knew materials today," said Mai as she joined them in the kitchen.

"Why?" asked Yakumo. It almost sounded like a plea.

"Happy birthday!" shouted Tenma and Kenji from behind the three girls making them all jump.

'I did ask,' thought Yakumo.

"We have a lot of plans today, Yakumo-chan, planned by yours truly and your boyfriend," said Tenma bubbly. "And we have a weekend getaway plan too!"

"But Nee-san, the wedding-"

"Is Sunday and we are going to relax in Kyoto," said Tenma.

"When was this decided?" asked Yakumo.

"Last week," said Kenji. "Since we're going to Kyoto, why not go today on your birthday?"

"But I'm-"

"We packed for you," said Eri. "You know, you're a very deep sleeper?"

Yakumo sighed. 'Well, it was nice of them to go to all this trouble.'

"I'll get my coat," said Yakumo as a small smile formed on her lips.

Kenji got into the driver's side of the car, which for a Japanese car was on the right, and started the engine. Mai, being the smallest, got to side in the middle-seat of the back with Eri and Tenma.

"Kenji-kun, do you have a license?" asked Yakumo.

"You can take a driver's test in the Army," said Kenji.

"But can you drive a car?" asked Eri.

"It's not too different from Jeeps and LAVs (8), just without a gunner and nobody's shooting at us and I have to follow traffic laws," laughed Kenji. Somehow, the girls **didn't** find that very comforting.

Kenji parked on the street in front of a Western-style restaurant.

A woman in a business suit was waiting for them. She had the same black hair and black eyes as Kenji, though she did not have the same intensity as Kenji's.

"Ohayo, Kenji," greeted his mother, Harima Kaori.

"Yo, Nii-chan," said Harima Shuuji, Kenji's younger brother. He was wearing a pair of slacks with a red polo-shirt.

When Yakumo emerged from the car she was smothered by Kaori. "Yakumo-chan, happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday, Yakumo-nee," said Shuuji. He didn't hug her because he was holding the present from him and Kaori.

"A-ari… gato," gasped Yakumo.

"Oka-chan, she can't breath," said Kenji pulling his mother off with all his considerable strength along with the assistance of Mai, Eri, and Tenma. Yakumo, once free, was double-over while trying to regain her breath.

"Ano, Yakumo?" asked Sarah, who had just arrived with Hiroyoshi, Haruki, and Mikoto.

Sarah was standing there in a white dress and a tan sweater-jacket. Hiroyoshi was standing behind her with a wrapped gift. He was wearing chinos and a Brunswick-green buttoned collared shirt with sports-jacket. Haruki was wearing khakis with a buttoned shirt and a dark-blue haori. Mikoto had on a seafoam-green skirt with a white sweater.

Eri was wearing a midnight-blue blouse with a black flowing skirt. Tenma had white blouse with pink sweater and purple skirt. Mai had on an olive-drab skirt with a tan buttoned shirt and olive-drab jacket, the same color scheme as the USMC B-class uniforms and the former US Army B-class uniforms. Kenji had a pair of black pants with a grey buttoned shirt and black sports-jacket, the only pair of formal clothing he owned that wasn't his old high school uniform or his military uniform.

"Kenji, we have to get you a real suit someday," said Kaori.

"Hai, Oka-chan," groaned Kenji.

They went inside and were shown to a table by a host. A waiter dressed like an English butler took their orders and then departed.

"Nii-chan, how's work these days?" asked Shuuji.

"Pretty good. There's still talk about an anime, but they're having problems working out a deal. The higher ups are trying to see if they can directly release in North America and Europe, but they can't… why was that again?" he asked Yakumo.

"They don't have a large staff of English speaking voice actors and there are a lot more laws regarding electrons being shipped overseas. Plus they have a different format from us. And… too much?" Yakumo asked when she saw the lost expressions on Kenji.

He only nodded because he was still too busy trying to process the information to speak.

"So, Shuuji-kun, you're starting junior high school this year?" asked Yakumo.

"Ee, I took the exam this week and now I'm waiting," said Shuuji.

"I think you'll like Yagami Jr. High," said Yakumo kindly in an elder sister way. "It's a very nice school, and you might even by in the same class as Mai."

Mai and Shuuji attended Yagami Shō-gakkō (Yagami Elementary School). They were in the same year, but not in the same class. Japanese elementary students would only get one teacher for all their classes. In junior high they would get multiple teachers.

"Only if we get in," said Mai.

"You'll be fine," said Kaori. "It's a private school and you're both legacies."

"But I thought Nii-chan skipped almost all of junior high," said Shuuji.

"Shut up," whispered Kenji stepping on his little brother's foot under the table.

"That would explain why I don't remember Harima-kun from junior high," said Mikoto.

'Is this Yakumo's Birthday or make fun of me day?' wondered Kenji.

The waiter delivered a copy of Yomiuri-Shimbun along with their coffees and teas. Kaori opened the paper and began to read the business section to catch up with the economy of Japan. She wondered if her son had seen the front page which showed a large picture of the Yugoslav Executive Assembly Building's front blown off by a bomb. So far the Japanese Federal Government did not seem too concern, though yesterday's article had said the EU was in an advance state of panic.

United States and Soviet Union both were acting as if they hoped this whole thing would just go away.

Kaori looked up at her son. He was arguing with his friends about all the jokes they were making about his days in school, but was still having fun. She smiled. He didn't need to know this, not yet.

Four hours later, Kenji, Mai, Yakumo, Eri, and Tenma where somewhere in Nagano Prefecture of the Chubu Region. He still had to drive through two more prefectures before he reached the Kyoto Prefecture. According to onboard GPS navigator he had another three and a half hours before they reached their designation… though the navigator seemed to keep adding minutes every so often.

It was a very scenic view of Japan. The mountains of central Japan were just starting to bloom with flowers as spring approached. Kenji noted that he was the only one awake in the car… since he was driving.

He decided to change the radio station from a pop music station broadcasting from Nakatsugawa, the city they had just passed through, to the BBC World Service, which he had grown accustomed to listening to during the war.

"We now continue with our top story," said BBC employed Japanese reporter. "The government of Yugoslavia has declared a state of emergency in their capital and marshal law is in effect. A curfew is now in place in the city of Belgrade and it is reported that anyone in the streets will be questioned and possibly arrested."

'What happened?' wondered Kenji.

"Yugoslavia has now issued an ultimatum to the Republic of Kosovo saying that if they do not produce the terrorists or bring assurances that the border will be secure Yugoslavia will use armed force to eliminate the threat of terrorism to their nation.

"European Union diplomats have pleaded with the Yugoslav foreign minister, but Uzunović-san says his government will not change their position. They have suffered years of escalating anti-Serbia and anti-Yugoslavia threats from Kosovo since 2008 and increasing violence that has led up to the bombing of their Executive Assembly Building. Yugoslavia has said they will give Kosovo's government a reasonable amount of time to make good on their end, but international leaders fear the worse."

'The Yugoslavians might be using their time to prepare their military… what was it called? … JNA. What the fuck is going on?'

"Despite criticism from the United States, Canada, Soviet Union, European Union, Albania, Greece, Turkey, and even the People's Republic of China, there seems little in the way of armed intervention from outside nations. Even the NATO appears to not be in a position of stopping Yugoslavia's offensive measures against terrorism."

Kenji frowned as he thought. NATO's purpose was to be an alliance of nations that mutually protect each other. If one NATO member state was attacked, all of NATO would go to war… or at least those who had the ability to deploy their troops, some of NATO could only provide bases for the other members.

However, now that Kenji thought about it, NATO was not for starting wars. If Kosovo provoked a military conflict, the others couldn't intervene. He remembered because it was in the first chapter of textbook: 'The North Atlantic Treaty Organization is a strategic coalition of mainly European and North American nations for the purpose of defense against any great military threat to the sovereignty of NATO's members.'

So that meant that Japan was not going to war. Kenji smiled to himself. When he graduated from high school he would have never figured that all out on his own and in such a short time. Besides, why should we have fight for a country on the other side of the Earth from Japan? He knew nothing about the Kosovars…

No. That was wrong.

Thousands of foreign soldiers left their homes to fight for the Republic of (South) Korea and the Federation of Japan.

He looked at the mountains as they started to fade and they reached the flatlands north of Nagoya. This was Nihon, a land that was both precious and sacred to him and over one-hundred-million other Nihonjin. It had no signification to the Westerners, but they came anyways. Surely Kosovo was just as important to the Kosovars. They fought a war for it… a very unsuccessful war that would have failed if the West hadn't stepped in because of the genocide, according to Lt. Urashima though.

Did Kosovars look at the mountains of their homeland with the pride the Japanese looked at theirs? Did the British love their islands like the Japanese loved theirs? Did Germany cherish the soil they loved on like the Japanese? Did Canadians admire the greenery of their nation like the Japanese? Did Americans love the place their called home?

Was this what bounded such a multi-culture, multi-national alliance to each other? That they all shared this common understanding?

Kenji looked at his sleeping girlfriend and the three people in the back. There had to be other people like him and had family. Kenji recalled in the Suzumiya Haruhi no Yūutsu, the Haruhi thought that being one person like millions made her insignificant. Kenji thought it made him connected to the rest of the world. A world that had shunned him for so long and he felt truly part of it.

* * *

**0500 Hours; March 24****th****, 2012; USS Enterprise (CVN-65), 80 km east of the Strait of Gibraltar; Atlantic Ocean, International Waters**

Captain Rodney Meyer entered the bridge of his carrier. He yawned. 'I'm getting too old for this job.'

The Enterprise was the oldest ship still in service in the United States Navy and was the first nuclear-powered aircraft carrier. The Big E, as she was nicknamed, was first laid down on February 4, 1958 and completed on September 24, 1960. She 8th ship in the US Navy to bear the name Enterprise.

Meyer knew this would be her last voyage. Enterprise was scheduled for decommissioning in between 2012-2014 with the new Ford Class carriers. The Atlantic Fleet would miss her though. He could only hope they would turn it into a museum like they had with the USS Intrepid.

"Valions 2-1, Valions 2-2, you are clear for take off," said a chief petty officer on air traffic-controller duty.

"Roger that Big E, we are out bound," said a lieutenant in the F-18E Super Hornet.

'I'm gonna' miss this,' Meyer's thought. He was 61-years-old. He wasn't one of the oldest men in the Navy… he was one of the oldest men serving in the entire United States Armed Forces. Meyer figured that he'd go out of active duty with his final command, this carrier.

"Master Chief, be sure those pilots watch where they are going. We don't want them flying over Morocco by accident," said Meyer to Master Chief Petty Officer Carl Osborn.

"Aye, Captain," said Master Chief Osborn, Meyer's aide. "Com, tell the Ruben James to pull in a little."

"Aye, sir," said a communication officer.

Enterprise had four surface escorts with her. It included three Oliver Perry Class missile frigates and one Spruance Class guided-missile destroyer. They also had one Los Angeles nuclear-powered attack submarine on their tail keeping an eye out for Soviet submarines. The Red Navy was very fond of tailing the US Navy's movements, especially the carriers. While the Soviets couldn't attack, unless war is declared, the US Navy didn't find a Russian submarine stalking them very comforting.

"Contact on radar at Zulu 12, Alpha 9. Heading: 097… oh it's a F27 Maritime," said a radar tech.

Meyer saw the distant flashes of the collision lights that, by international law, was required turned-on during the night to avoid collisions… hence the name. It was a Spanish Air Force maritime patrol plane that was probably on the end of its circuit and would be either heading north or turn east back to Spain.

Nothing unusual was going on. There was a Sigma Class corvette of the Royal Moroccan Navy south of them bound for Strait. In additional to some boats belonging to the Spanish and Moroccan police and coast guards, there was the usual assortment of merchant and cargo ships.

"One Suffren Class and La Fayette Class on radar, sir," said the radar tech. A French guided-missile destroyer and multi-purpose missile frigate was approaching the Enterprise. They would follow the Enterprise's group until they reached Sicily's operations-zone. Then the French ships would turn north for their southern coast and the Marine Nationale's (French Navy) major naval base at Toulon, home of the Charles de Gaulle (R 91) super carrier.

"Captain, we have in coming transmission from Norfolk," said a chief petty officer. The flash message was picked up by a receiver and a machine translated it into words. The petty officer passed it to Master Chief Osborn and he in turn handed it to Captain Meyer.

'From: COMLANTSURFLT (9),

To: Enterprise

0530 Zulu; 24.03.12

Patrol and drills Tyrrhenian Sea is cancelled, break. Proceed to Ionian Sea, break. Hold at latitude 19, longitude 39, break. Drills will be conducted at new designated location and proceed as normal, breack.

End Transmission.'

'Strange, that would put as about 90 km southwest of Kerkyra. Why does Norfolk want me on the other side of Italy?' Captain Meyer wondered. 'That location would put me off the coast of Greece and about 120 km south of Adriatic Sea. Well, this is my last mission. Why not?'

"Okay crew, we have new orders from Fleet Command. Helmsman, proceed as normal to Augusta operational-zone. Then we head for: latitude 19, longitude 39. Then will conduct our drills there. That is all," said Meyer.

"Aye, Captain!" shouted the bridge-crew.

"Lieutenant Hughes, plot me a course from Point Mike to our now objective," said Meyer to Lieutenant Kimberly Hughes.

"Aye, Captain," said Lt. Hughes as she pulled out a plotting compass and ruler to set a path to follow to the Ionian Sea.

* * *

**0140 Hours; March 24****th****, 2012; Naval Station Norfolk, Norfolk; Commonwealth of Virginia, United States of America**

NS Norfolk, or Norfolk Naval Base, was the largest naval station by population and home to the Atlantic Fleet Command, the US 1st Fleet, and US Joint Forces Command. Her counterpart was Naval Station San Diego, home to Pacific Fleet Command.

Atlantic Fleet during the Cold War was its own Combatant Command of the US Unified Combatant Command, the United States equivalent of the Soviet's Strategic Frontier. It was now under the Northern Command, Southern Command, European Command, and African Command. Roughly at UCT -3, which divided Greenland in half, was where EUROCOM and NORTHCOM were split in half.

Their main focus was the European half of LANTFLT because the Red Navy ships would come into the Atlantic from the Barents Sea via the Greenland Sea and Norwegian Sea.

"Admiral, the Enterprise has sent us a response. She will proceed as normal to Augusta and then to the new objective point," said Fleet Master Chief Petty Officer Nathaniel Qinhuang.

"Thank you, Qinhuang," said CINCLANTFLT (Commander-in-Chief Atlantic Fleet) Admiral Zackary Pendinsky. "Qinhuang, when is the Eisenhower due in?"

"1300 Zulu," said Qinhuang. Zulu was GMT, which would be for Norfolk 0800 Lima. Lima was the designation for local time.

"I see. Send it in to drydocks when she returns," said Pendinsky.

"Sir?"

"New orders from Chief," said Pendinsky as he poured himself a shot of scotch from a bottle he kept in his desk's bottom drawer. By Chief he was referring to Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Quinn. "Atlantic Fleet is to get as many ships and boats to peak operating status. I want reactors inspected, planes put through stress checks, and so on. Make sure all our surface combatants and attack boats are ready for long term deployments ASAP. Clear?"

"Aye."

"Oh, and get Davidson to get the Maine up and running," said Pendinsky, referring to the USS Maine, one of the Montana Class battleships (10).

"Aye, Admiral."

* * *

**0900 Hours; March 24****th****, 2012; Japanese Federal Navy Headquarters, Tokyo; Tokyo Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

"Ohayo gozaimasu," said Commandant of the Japanese Marine Corps, General Satō Kazuya, as he entered the room.

"Ohayo," said Chief of Staff of the Japanese Federal Navy, Admiral Mizuryū Chidori. "Master Chief Chiaki, are we missing anyone?"

"Iē, ma'am," said Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy Chiaki Shizue.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Navy of the Federation of the Rising Sun," said Admiral Mizuryū, "there is a crisis in Europe and it has fallen to the Navy to be ready to respond."

This statement was met by a stunned silence.

"Ano… Admiral, it would take us 9 days just to reach the Panama Canal," said Chief of Surface Combatants Operations, Admiral Muranaka Masaki. "And that's if the ships make the run at full speed."

Running at 33 kt (61 km/h) was not meant to be done for days un-end. It was hard on the engines, for the carriers it risked a core meltdown, it made them easy to hear, and made it impossible to detect submarines with passive sonar.

"If we run at normal speeds it could be done in 17 to 24 days," said Commander of the 1st Fleet, Vice Admiral Shudo Kenji. That would be a run at 18 kt to 15 kt.

"And a silent run would take 24 to 38 days. I did achieve being the first woman to hold a rank this high in our military," said Admiral Mizuryū, irritated. "And you haven't yet added the 10,537 km distance from Panama to Piraeus (11)."

"Ma'am, we're just saying that if we are going to respond to a crisis in Eastern Europe then will probably need a two month notice," said Lt. General Seta Masado, Commander of the First Marine Expeditionary Group.

"Well, we can send Marine groups One and Two-" started Admiral Yamazaki Jiro, Chief of Japanese Submarine Operations.

"We only have two groups," said General Satō. "The third is a reservist group. Only the Prime Minister and the Diet can reactivate it."

"Shouldn't this be the Army's problem?" asked Vice Admiral Byuten Noguchi, Commander of the 2nd Fleet.

"It is, and the Army is kind of at our mercy here since they need us to ship them to Europe," said Admiral Tanaka Shoichi. The Japanese Air Force didn't have enough heavy transports to mobilize multiple divisions at once. Infantry were easy to airlift since the Japanese Government could have commercial airliners commandeered. But tanks like the Type 90 required large aircraft with a lot of power. Kawasaki Heavy Industries was currently working on an oversize cargo transporter, but that wasn't scheduled for service until 2013.

"If we run at 33 kt and then do some short low speed runs, we could cross the Pacific in maybe two weeks. If we assume that moving a fleet group with transports through Panama takes more than a day and the run across the Atlantic takes about… mm, maybe a month in all," said Admiral Muranaka. "It would probably take two to four days to assemble all the ships. The rest will be up to those Army jokers."

"And we know we can depend on them," laughed Admiral Seta.

"Just get the 1st and 2nd Fleet's ships to full readiness," said Admiral Mizuryū. "3rd Fleet will take responsibility for Nihon's defense."

This was a trivial request since a third of the Japanese's ships had their commissioning less than 10 years ago and all the cruisers, carriers, and battleships had their official commissioning within the last two years.

The United States, Canadian, and Japanese were the only NATO members that wouldn't connected to Europe. Mizuryū wondered how long it would take the Yugoslavians to notice this and how long it would take to figure out the obvious conclusion.

Yet why were they doing this? At this point Yugoslavia could justify their position and force Western leaders to fight them with diplomacy… for the time being. It was how the game was played. If Yugoslavia didn't just jump into war than NATO had to do the same. Was it a matter of when they went to war or a matter of if? It was all turning into grey ethics and diplomatic chaos.

Welcome to the new Cold War.

* * *

Once again I was running out of things to say towards the end of the chapter. I am exhausted and I still have work to do.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. Onii-san and Onee-san mean young man and young woman, respectfully. They can mean big brother and big sister, but in this context it is how a person would refer to a stranger somewhere in there teens or 20s.

2. 119 is the emergency services phone number in Japan. I'm not sure if it contacts the police, but I know you can use it call for an ambulance. Useful information if you're visiting Japan.

3. The Road Transportation Bureau is a sub-division of the Japanese Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transportation, and Tourism (Kokudo Kōtsū Shō). It is responsible for automotive transportation in Japan such as cars, trucks, and buses.

4. In addition to the squad leaders, there is a forth sergeant who advises the platoon leader. Since lieutenants are usually inexperienced junior officers, they choose a senior sergeant. NCOs are usually professional soldiers who assist junior officers and provide experience to squads and small units. A platoon sergeant is usually a Sergeant First Class in the US Army or Gunnery Sergeant in the USMC.

5. In the 1940s the US Armed Forces had not made the transition from black powder to smokeless powder like the Germans had… I'm not sure about the Soviets or British. They would not until the 1960s when the US Army, Marine Corps, Navy, and Air Force adopted ball-grade ammo.

6. A double-action gun is a gun that's hammer can be cocked by pulling the trigger. It however takes more effort to pull the trigger for the first shot. To avoid the strain of the extra weight on the trigger for the first pull, most double-action guns can be used in a single-action function too. There are however some guns called DAO, double-action only, which do not feature SA (single-action) features. There is also a DA/SA (double-action/single-action) but it is not clear how it differs from a normal DA, other than they often have a de-cocker to return the hammer to the rest position and to DA.

7. Haman is an abbreviation for Heil HaModi'in (Intelligence Corps). It is the intelligence service of the Israeli Defense Force.

8. The Komatsu Light Armored Vehicle, or Komatsu LAV, is the Japanese general-purpose vehicle. At some point I have to rewrite all the references to HMMWVs in my last story and replace them with the LAV. It seats a driver, three passengers, and a gunner. It can mount a FN Minimi or M2 .50 cal (both licensed by Sumitomo) or Type-01 or Type-87 anti-tank missle. It is a 4x4 and can exceed 100 km/h (70 mph) on roads.

9. LANTSURFLT is an abbreviation for Atlantic Surface Fleet. If you put COM in front of it, it means Atlantic Surface Fleet Command.

10. USS Maine (BB-69) was never finished. Its keel was hardly laid down when her construction was cancelled. None of the Montana Class ships were every completed.

11. Piraeus is a port in Greece on the Saronic Gulf on Greece's eastern coast. It is a mere 9 km away from Athens, the capital of the Hellenic Republic (Greece). Piraeus is one of Greece's largest maritime centres to both commercial shipping and to the Hellenic Navy.


	10. Chapter 10: Prelude

Well I have a new computer now. I lost chapter 10 twice on my old dying computer, may it rest in peace. I've also upgraded to Microsoft Office 2007. Aside from the fact that spell check recognizes more names and places and a few other things I don't see much of a difference.

Well I first like to say Hail to the Chief! 44th President of the United States of America Barack Hussein Obama II has taken office. I proud to be an American again. In fact I think I can safely say to my Canadian and European readers that I am an American… if you people haven't already figured that out which I hope you have.

I also bought Call of Duty: World at War. I've felt that many of the previous COH games have put emphasis on patriotism and nationalism that the United Kingdom, Soviet Union, and the United States felt during World War II. Call of Duty 4: Modern Combat seemed to be more about stopping terrorism in the 21st Century and military and covert options countries use to fight them. World at War to me felt like it was showing the brutality of war. Close combat is pretty big in the game with flamethrowers and bayonets to be used. You alternate between USMC and the Red Army. You've got the Battle of Stalingrad, Battle of Peleliu, Battle of Makin Atoll, Battle of Seelow Heights (march to Berlin), Battle of Berlin, and the Battle of Okinawa. You've still have the same online game play as with Call of Duty 4, but with World War II weapons. One thing that disappointed me was that when you die they no longer include quotes. They just tell you if you were blown up by a grenade or tank.

I have finally gotten around to watching Mahou Sensei Negima. It's a fairly entertaining anime by Ken Akamatsu, the man who wrote Love Hina. You'll see that he recreated some of his old characters but with enough differences that you won't feel like you're watching the same show over again. Basically it is a about a 10-year-old Welsh wizard named Negi Springfield who goes from Wales to Japan to teach at a girl's junior high school. For people who have seen the anime you may have noticed that Asuna Kagurazaka is based off Naru Narusegawa and Nodoka Miyazaki is based off Shinobu Maehara. Negi seems loosely based off Keitaro Urashima, but less unlucky and clumsy. I found the show entertaining enough, but the main male and female protagonist just didn't appeal to me as much as Keitaro and Naru had.

I also started watching Hayate the Combat Butler. It sounds weird, but it's actually very funny. It's a parody anime, sorta like Lucky Star, in that it makes references to other animes. Unlike Lucky Star it doesn't just refer to them it also has fight scenes that reference Rurouni Kenshin, Naruto, Bleach, Dragonball Z, Mobile Suit Gundam, etc. It's about Ayasaki Hayate an extremely unlucky 16-year-old boy whose parents run off and leave a massive debt to repay to the yakuza. Hayate meets a girl who he decides to hold for ransom, but through a series of poor choice of words the girl, Nagi, a 13-year-old very rich girl, thinks Hayate is in love with her. Skipping over events that take too long to explane Hayate becomes Nagi's butler/bodyguard. It's a very funny show that is only available in Japanese. No English version exists yet.

On a final not I bought the first 13 episodes of School Rumble Second Term on DVD now available at your local Best Buy. In this time of economic crisis you might want to put some money in the economy and buy something, but don't go crazy either.

I have survived my first semester at Hamilton College. I will be continuing the Japanese language with Second Term Japanese. I've even learned some Kanji. Did ya'll know that Nihongo (Japanese language) is actually not a Chinese based language? The writing is but the spoken language is Korean based.

I don't own any trademark or copywritten item. Please leave a review and/or tell a friend.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Prelude**

"Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know which you're going to get next."

One of the most famous lines from the movie Forrest Gump

**2127 Hours; March 21****st****, 2012; Shinhachi Compound, Kirkland; Washington State, United States of America**

A phone rang.

"Hello?" answered Jack.

"Colonel, this is Compass Six."

"How are things Brussels, sir?"

"You know the talks between Yugoslavia and Kosovo?"

"How'd they end?"

"They just ended?"

"…" Jack checked the clock on his wall. He had several set for different time zones. "Sir, isn't it 4:00 in the morning over their?"

"Yes and it didn't end well."

"Does it ever?" asked Jack.

"This one ended worse than usually. The Serbians said they can't tolerate the situation any longer. Kosovo did not become a nation by the book and should be returned to Serbia. As of 0400 Zulu they have 48 hours to dissolve their government."

This was bad. The Kosovars had been in a weak position with the assassination of their foreign minister. Talks between the two nations had broken down completely. In some ways it gave Yugoslavia a slight edge. Since Kosovo wasn't willing to speak it meant Yugoslavia could possibly say that they had no choice but to use armed force.

"What's their justification?" asked Jack.

"A general in the Yugoslav People's Army was killed and his staff. The word is the man was part of covert ops for the JNA, but the SIS can't seem to verify this. Actually this man seem to be an old broken down buffer. They claim it was done by Kosovar black ops," said Compass Rose Six, the British Major General and head of Joint Task Force Compass Rose.

"Seems a little too convenient. And naturally this is being kept out of the press. Even our press hasn't gotten word… yet. But it might be enough to keep us from storming into Kosovo to cover our ally."

"Either way they have 24 hours before the JNA mobilizes. The recognition of the Republic is sketchy at best by the UN (United Nations) so it will hard to justify a major deployment of Her Majesty's troops, let alone yours."

"So it's starting and we can't do a thing. Figures."

"You Yanks should be use to showing up to wars late."

"Wasn't our war to begin with. The Kaiser or Hitler was Europe's problem until they made it ours."

"Let's get back to the problem at hand. The Balkans."

"Always a thorn in Europe's side," snorted Jack.

"Quite," laughed General Elliot.

"My government has ordered our troops to consolidate around our embassy in Pristina and the southern border near Albania and Greece. We're not going to fight. Nor are any remaining EU soldiers."

"Will probably launch a counter-offensive after the fact so keep me updated as much as possible."

"Of course, Six."

* * *

**0717 Hours; March 24****th****, 2012; Natsuyami Inn, Kyoto; Kyoto Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Kenji had learned to be a morning person when he lived with his cousin Itoko because if he missed breakfast then he wouldn't eat until lunch, which he couldn't always afford towards the end of the month when he was in high school. Now he had his Army paycheck he could afford to eat two to three meals everyday in a mouth. He manga royalties help give him long term financial security.

Haruki, being the discipline martial arts student he was, was already doing some morning stretches.

Kenji was just enjoying the view from the inn. To the south he could see mountains that blocked the city of Kyoto from view.

"Nan-ji (what time is it)?" asked Haruki.

Kenji checked his watch. "Almost 0720."

"When do we pick up Kazu?"

"Uh, around 13:30 (1:30 pm) we pick him up from Kyoto-eki (Kyoto Station)," said Kenji. "Ichigo's father is driving him and his family here… sorry but I couldn't figure out how to uninvited that windbag without leaving Ichigo's stranded."

"Doesn't Renji have a car?"

"Ie. He's taking the train too."

"Lt. Urashima?" asked Haruki.

"Driving up from Hinata today with the weirdos he lives with. The little girl with the blue hair seemed nice enough, but the rest seemed like violent psychos… except for the one other girl who seemed to be some kind of con-artist."

"A con-artist picking on our platoon leader?" said Haruki aghast. Lieutenant Urashima was a clumsy man and when it came to people in civilian life he was far too trust. It was odd that in wartime he was very sharp and aware. Sometimes the members of 2nd platoon thought he was too trusting to be a soldier, but Urashima Keitaro had led them across Korea and his squads were very fond of their kind-heart lieutenant.

"What I don't get is why he doesn't just take them out. He's pretty tough… okay that girl Maehara-san, she was 21 but she looks like she 15… you like Tenma-san but quieter, I could see why he didn't beat her up, but the nut with the katana was a whole different matter."

"We'll ask him when he gets here. Asou is getting here by his own car right?"

"Hai. I think he might be driving Fuyuki and a couple of others with Sara-san."

"You sure?"

"It's in the daily planner."

"… you have a daily planner?" asked a stunned Haruki.

"Uh… Yakumo gave it to me because I could never remember my appointments and you know she does so much and I didn't want to burden her anymore than she is," said Kenji defensively. Part of him grieved at the person he was turning into, but it was true that Yakumo couldn't remind him of his appointments all the time. She was the one that really ran Tsukamoto Household. All the bills, reminding Kenji to do maintenance, calling repairmen when it was beyond his skills, covertly keeping her older sister out of trouble or danger was all Yakumo's doing. She worked harder than anyone and hardly ever spoke about it let alone complain. Kenji didn't even know how to describe her anymore. Too many words fell short to describe the awe, respect, and devotion he felt for her… then again maybe that was how to describe how he felt.

Kenji looked out the open sliding door that led to the balcony. There were some clouds from the rain last night however it was clearing up and the sun was already shining. Today was going to be the day. He looked at the royal blue felt box next to his pillow.

Next door Mai had just woken up and walk to the bathroom. Tampons were still new to her and her panties were stained with a small amount blood. This was really embarrassing. As her big brother said they would get through it because they had no other choice (1). She would have to wash it later. It was times like this she was happy that Yakumo was around. Not because it was too embarrassing to tell Kenji, but because Kenji was too embarrassed to listen to anything… too detailed.

Yakumo entered the bathroom to brush her teeth. Tenma as usually was still lost to unconsciousness and if she wasn't in a totally ridiculous position, twitching, snoring, and sleep-talking then it would have appeared she was in a coma.

"Tenma-Neechan is a really deep sleeper. She reminds me of a girl that was in my class in Pusan."

"Nee-san has always been like this," said Yakumo neutrally. Mai could not tell if Yakumo disapproved or not.

Mai looked at Yakumo, still dressed in her light blue pajamas. Yakumo was at the end of puberty. Her figure was well developed, her skin smooth and soft, her hair shiny and silky, her legs slender, her hips small… Yakumo was the epitome a perfect Japanese woman. She was small, beautiful, skilled-domestically, and quiet.

Mai looked at Yakumo's breasts. Not as large a Suō Mikoto's but much larger than Mai's. It was only in January that Mai had a chest that could be noticed when she wore her school uniform. It made her self-conscious and uncomfortable. Her waist was starting to get smaller too. This was growing up apparently.

"I think we're going to have to buy you a bra," said Yakumo.

'Great, that's just what I wanted to come to Kyoto for,' thought Mai sarcastically. 'At least Yakumo will take. Kami-sama that is another conversation I don't want to have with Onii-chan.'

"Ne, Yakumo-Neesan, was growing up this hard for you?" asked Mai.

Yakumo smiled kindly. "I was worse because my parents weren't around much. Kenji may be of no help, but he is there."

She was right on that note. Mai thought for a moment. "Where are you Oka-san and Oto-san? How come we've never met them?"

Yakumo thought for a moment before answering. "They're both overseas at the moment, but I can't remember which country they are in now. They right of time-to-time, but they haven't visited home since Nee-san graduated junior high school."

"What do they do?"

"… I don't actually know," admitted Yakumo. "They work for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs so they travel a lot."

Mai looked up at the older woman. The Tsukamoto Sisters' parents had been something of a mystery to Mai… and Kenji, but he'd never questioned it much. In fact she wondered if they were aware that Kenji and Mai lived with Tenma and Yakumo.

Meanwhile Kenji was walking down the hall to the room where Tenma, Yakumo, and Mai were. He was almost there when he was intercepted by someone else.

"Ohaiyo, Harima-kun," said Tsukino.

"Ah, Tsukino-san, ohaiyo," greeted Kenji a little less enthusiastically than she had. He had one hand in his pocket clutching a velvet box and he had intended to speak with Yakumo as soon as possible. "Nan desu ka?"

"We have to get started on wedding rehearsal so I suggest you get Hanai-san," she said batting her eyes, an action lost on Kenji who was brooding over his lost opportunity. He was reminded of those numerous failed attempts to confess to Tenma… was this a sign that his life with Yakumo wasn't meant to be either?

"I was also wondering what you were doing for lunch… Harima-kun?"

Kenji was already walking back to his room with his head hanging low and a depress look on his face.

* * *

**0630 Hours; December 13****th****, 1947; Soviet Southern Group Forward HQ, Freising; Bavarian Staat, German Democratic Republic**

Freising was a city north of Unterschleissheim and Munich. It was on the Isar River that flowed into Munich a few kilometers down river. Here the Krasnaya Armiya (Red Army) had its southern HQ set up; northern HQ was in Berlin, but the subject of occasional attacks from a hostile German resistance organization. Southern Group HQ had moved into Freising after bad weather had started to settle in and had avoided air attacks.

"Comrade General, Colonel Stravinsky says the Air Force will be grounded due to incoming snow and fog. It will be too dangerous for our pilots to take off," said a warrant officer.

"Spa-see-ba, Comrade. Send for Colonel Luzhkov," said Major General Boris Semyonovich Filitov, the 37th Motor-Rifle Division commander.

"Of course, Comrade General.

Colonel Dmitriy Nikolayevich Luzhkov, commander of the 55th Guards Motor-Rifle Regiment, entered Filitov's office in high spirits for the upcoming offensive that he would lead.

"Dima," greet Filitov, "would you like some tea?"

"Only if you serve it like a true Russian, Borya (2)," said Luzhkov with a bark of a laugh. Filitov smiled and pored his old friend tea and then added vodka.

Filitov and Luzhkov were old veterans and even older friends from a small town east of the Ural Mountains. In 1915 when they were 18 they had joined the Czar's army to fight the Austro-Hungarian Empire and German Armies in Poland, back when Poland was part of Russia. They had missed the violent Battle of Lodz, but fought in the vicious Battle of Warsaw that flattened most of the Polish capitol. They had fought with the Bolsheviks and joined the Red Army in the 1917 October Revolution. They had fought against the Fascist invaders in the Great Patriotic War (World War II). Now they were fighting their former allies. This was their fourth war.

"Dima, the Red Air Force is grounded," said Filitov as he took a sip from the bottle of vodka.

"What?!" shouted Luzhkov dropping the cigar he was about to light up. "You expect me to attack without proper air cover?"

"Nyet (no), Marshal Zhukov expects you to," said Filitov flatly. Marshal of the Soviet Union Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov was the official head of the Soviet Armed Forces. General-Secretary Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin was expecting a quick victory. While Marshal Zhukov had expected the West to put up a strong fight he had hoped the Red Army would have been on the Rhine River and the German-French border.

"Dima, 'Glorious' Comrade Stalin," started Filitov, using the word 'glorious' with a sarcastic note, "wants a decisive victory he can report to the people in the Rodina. Zhukov wants a breakout in the south so we break NATO's defensive front. This will most certainly be our last war, Dima, if we don't retake Untershschleissheim and then immediately begin our assault on Munich. Or do you want to explain it to the Party and their Commissar dogs?"

The armed forces were loyal to the USSR, but they feared the wrath of the Communist Party leaders and hated their lapdogs that interfered with the military. Little did they know how much more they would despise KGB that would be created in 1954.

"Those Chekists (3) bastards," grunted Luzhkov. "They know nothing of military matters. But if the Comrade Marshal needs this victory to keep his job and head then I will risk my regiment."

"The GRU resistance will be a mix of American, British, and German soldiers from various divisions. They've seen paratroopers, infantry, and maybe two NATO armored companies. You're regiment should annihilate the Imperialists."

"Katyushas will provide support, Borya?"

"Da, Dima."

* * *

**0812 Hours; December 13****th****, 1947; North Atlantic Treaty Organization Headquarters, Brussels; Brussels Capital-Region, Kingdom of Belgium**

General Omar Nelson Bradley could remember dark days in World War II. He was there with Lloyd Fredendall was crushed by Erwin Rommel at the Battle of Kasserine Pass. He remembered how the superior German tanks had demolished the American armor and demonstrated the might of Wehrmacht to the still green American GIs.

He had been under the old war dog, George S. Patton in North Africa and Sicily. Then he commanded the US invasion force at Normandy under Generals Montgomery and Eisenhower. Now he was in charge of the US troops in Europe after Eisenhower had tired from military service.

"General, Ivan attacked our southeast outpost outside of Hamburg again. Both sides sustained have casualties. French took a real beating. And we've lost contact with a Belgian battalion," reported a lieutenant.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. You are dismissed."

The lieutenant saluted and processed to exit the room when he paused. "Uh, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Monty is outside. Should I tell him you're busy?"

General Bradley sighed. "My day can't get worse without Monty. Send him in."

"Yes sir."

British Commander, Field Marshal Bernard Law Montgomery, also known as Monty, swaggered into the office.

"Brad, morn'," said Marshal Montgomery in his curt brisk tone.

"And to you too," said an unenthusiastic General Bradley. American and British generals didn't always get along, but there was no officer the Americans, and some of the British too, hated dealing with than Montgomery. He was a good leader… except for his Market-Garden fiasco (4).

"Heard about yesterday's attack?"

"Yeah French took a beating and we lost contact with a Belgian battalion."

"French abandoned the outpost and the Belgians lost a whole regiment," said Montgomery gravely.

"Fuck," cursed Bradley.

"The South?"

"We retook Unterschleissheim and we're moving a battalion from the 4th Infantry and a company of the 100th Infantry Battalion. Also what's left of a company of the 3rd Armored Division. Some of your soldiers and tanks are there too. Most of the soldiers are German paratroopers and infantry. Fact is that third-fifths of the troops there are Germans. That includes elements of, or so says General von Rundstedt (5), the 13th Fallshirmjäger Division, the 314th Infantrie Division, the 109th Infantrie Division, and the 21st Panzergrenadier Division."

"Panzergrenadier? As in those blighters that plagued us the whole damn war?"

"Yup," nodded Bradley.

Montgomery stood up and paced the room in deep thought. "They'd have tanks, right?"

"Wouldn't be much of a tank-infantry division if they didn't have armor," said Bradley. "You can call Gerd. But he'll ask for fuel. OSS (Office of Strategic Service) says Ivan is moving several armored battalions south."

"SOE (Special Operation Executive) will back your chaps on that."

"Monty, did you get more armor support?"

Montgomery looked out Bradley's window. "… you know how much my pride means to me, so you'll appreciate the significance that I begged London for two armor divisions. As counter-intuitive as it sounds London won't risk sending more of Her Majesty's soldiers unless we achieve a strategic victory over the Communist…"

Bradley cursed under his breath and then finished Montgomery's sentence. "And we need that armor to back up our southern front so Ivan can't outflank us and force us to abandon Hamburg."

They paused to appreciate the situation they were in… one that could be described as a catch-22 less than two decades later when Joseph Heller wrote his novel Catch-22. They needed the tanks to turn the tides of battle and they wouldn't get them unless they turn the tide of battle.

"Washington any more help?"

"The Secretary of War (6) reactivated the 2nd Armored Division, but they'll have to gear up and then be shipped over to France or Belgium."

Montgomery snorted. "That could take a bloody month and we don't have that time Brad. This is just brilliant!"

"Public opinion doesn't seem to mind losing Germany. American people want us to retreat and protect the French and leave the Germans to suffer under Ivan. They don't seem to realize that we can't afford to lose that kind of ground," said Bradley leaning back in his desk chair.

"England feels the same. But we cannot allow the Reds to build momentum… we can't pull our armor from the north and our reserves are already being sent to the north. The only tanks in reserve now our the German tanks…," Montgomery froze in mid-sentence. An idea forming. "Jerry has several armor divisions sitting idle."

"With no gas," pointed out Bradley.

"Suppose we get the petrol they keep asking for," said the British Field Marshal.

"Washington and London would have our heads on a platter."

"The Russians will have our heads on platters with the politicians at this rate. We can't give them the gas."

"It would make things rather easier on our boys."

They looked each other in the eye.

"I know we're losing the war Monty, but there isn't anyone to replace that knows the war like us. We can't risk losing our jobs. Besides most of the German tanks run off diesel and ours mostly use gasoline. We don't have enough to supply the entire German military."

"But you'd be willing to try."

"… if I think we're going to lose Munich… then will give Krauts whatever they need to fight."

* * *

**1237 Hours; March 24****th****, 2012; Natsuyami Inn, Kyoto; Kyoto Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Kenji was exhausted. He'd spent the last five hours either in the practice ceremony and trying to find people or items missing from the ceremony. He checked his watch. He didn't know how long it would take him to get to Kyoto Station and he decided it was probably a good time to go and pick him up.

"Haruki, I'm going to pick up Kazu," said Kenji heading to their room to get his car keys.

"Do you have any idea of where the station is?" asked Mikoto.

"Car has one of the navigation things so I should be fine."

"But do you know how to use it?" asked Haruki with a grin. Kenji paused. Mai had programmed the navigator to get them here. "Don't worry, I'll come too."

They drove together down the mountain and into the city of Kyoto. Kyoto has been known by the Japanese as the City of a Thousand Shrines or more commonly as the Old Capital. In fact the character 'Kyo', that is also in Tokyo, means capital. At the start of the Edo Period the capital was move from Kyoto to Edo, which was renamed East Capital (Tokyo) at the start of the Meiji Period.

Despite Kyoto being a very ancient city, it was quite modern. Kyoto didn't have the same population density or as tall buildings, but it did have a similar feel to Tokyo. Though of major cities in Japan Kyoto was the least modern looking. The difference was that there were more old buildings and many were older than the ones in Tokyo. This was both because Kyoto was an older city and didn't get fire-bombed during World War II as Tokyo was by American B-29s. Kenji slowed down his driving a little to the annoyance of the people behind him, but he didn't care. He and Haruki were in awe of the many traditional buildings. They would pass people still dressed in clothing from the Edo Period, though it was mostly for the benefit of tourist both foreign and domestic.

"You don't see geisha girls around Yagami," said Haruki. Geishas were still in existence in Kyoto. Contrary to some Western beliefs geishas were not a form of legal prostitution. They were women who provided food service and musical entertainment in a traditional Japanese form. There were also Buddhist monks, many of the Buddhists lived around Kyoto.

Kyoto Station that currently serviced as the main terminal in the city was opened in for the 1,200 tear anniversary. The station was owned by the JR Central Railway Company. It was a tall modern cubic plate glass and steel building that was 70 m high and 470 m east to west. It's floor space was 238,000 square meters. It was one of the most modern looking buildings in Kyoto and one of the largest stations in Japan.

Kenji parked in the garage and they walked into the crowded station.

"The 291 from Tokyo should be Kazu's train," said Kenji looking up at the split-flap display board. The board would make a clicking noise and flaps would turn revealing numbers or letters as the train information was updated.

It said:

13:30 Tōkaidō Shinkansen #291 Tokyo-Osaka Track #9 On Time

"Ikimashō (shall we go)?" asked Haruki.

"Ee," nodded Kenji.

A 300 Series, one of the Shinkansen trains, or Bullet Train as it was popularly known in the West, pulled into station with a light blow of the horn to alert the people on the platform of the train's approach and to stand back from the tracks.

The train came to a gentle stop and the doors slid neatly open. Passengers detrained carrying bags and suitcases. Kenji and Haruki stood a distance back so they wouldn't be trampled by the people getting off and the ones trying to board the train that would continue to its final destination the Shin-Osaka Station.

Kitsumori Kazu, the squad's gunner, was carrying his army-issue duffle bag over his back. He didn't look quite clean. He was kicked out of his home and living in a small apartment in the more rundown part of Karakura. He was living alone working for a shipping company because his parents had kicked him out. To this day neither Kenji nor Haruki knew why, but knew it had happened before he was drafted into service.

"Konnichiwa, Haruki, Kenji," greeted Kazu.

"Daijobu ka?" was the first thing Kenji said. Haruki smacked him on the back of the head and whispered he was being rude.

"Watashi (me)? Ee, daijobu yo (Yeah, I find I assure you)," said Kazu.

"Why don't we buy you lunch," said Haruki.

They found rotating sushi bar, a fairly common type of restaurant in Japan around business areas and train stations. On a conveyor belt was a series of different color plates. The most expensive items were on gold plates, second most expensive were on silver, and the cheapest were on ordinary white plates.

Kenji naturally ate from the white plates. Two years ago he could barely afford to eat at the end of the month and would fill up on water to keep from starving.

"Take what you want Kazu, we'll pay for you," said Haruki. Kenji had whispered that Kazu may not have enough money to eat as much as he should be during the week.

"Arigato," said Kazu as he grabbed some eel. Kenji grabbed some takoyaki and Haruki took some cheap tuna.

Kazu ate more than the other two combined. This was some concern Kenji who recognized that he was making up for probably six or seven meals he missed.

"Nice car," said Kazu.

"It's the family car," said Kenji. "I usually take the train in if the Chief Editor wants to see me, but now they want me to start appearing at this 'dinners'."

Kenji didn't really know what to say. He felt like he was flaunting his success in Kazu's face when Kazu was living off minimal wage and an army salary.

They joked around in the car. Kazu was still the mediator between Kenji and Haruki, or at least reminded them what started their arguments in the first place. He was such a nice guy and it was hard to see him hitting hard times.

"Oi, Haruki, couldn't you find him a job at the dojo?" asked Kenji as they arrived at the inn.

"Maybe, but it might not be much better pay," said Haruki thoughtfully. "Oto-san would be willing to give he a place to sleep too since Kazu was my subordinate. The problem is Kazu might not want to take a job from us."

"He took a meal from us."

"He was sort of a delinquent like you. Would you take a free meal?"

"Of course."

"A job?" asked Haruki with a raised eyebrow.

Kenji thought about it. "Only if I was really depressed, desperate, or was being blackmailed."

"Blackmailed?" asked Haruki swear-dropping.

"Life with Itoko can be unusually," replied Kenji sighing.

"Harima-kun! Where have you been?" cried a flirtatious voice. Tsukino ran towards them and in the background Yakumo looked over at them. Shadows and her bangs hid her face. Had her face been visible they would have seen a sharp glare. Yakumo had never hated someone before. She hadn't been fond of Eri or Haruki at one time, but she'd never flat out hated them or wished them ill.

Haruki saw Yakumo up on a second-story hall looking down at the parking lot where they were. He couldn't see her face, but he thought her hands were clenched in fists and there was something angry about the way her turned around and walked away. Was it him? He thought they were friends now. He looked at Kenji talking politely to Tsukino how was being very friendly… a little too friendly now that he thought about it.

His eyes widened with realization. Haruki grabbed Kenij by the back of his collar and said, "Sumimasen, but we need to show Kazu where we're sleeping. Mata, Tsukino-san."

* * *

**0545 Hours; March 24****th****, 2012; Tulare, 5 km East of Kosovar-Serbian Border; Socialist Republic of Serbia, Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia**

(This section is in Serbian unless underlined)

"Comrades, load your weapons," ordered a captain.

"Da, Comrade Captain," said the company.

"Today we should those rebels whose land this is," said the captain.

A J-22 roared over head. It was followed by its two wingmen.

"There, Comrades! See our Oraos (Eagles). They will be the first strike on those bastards!"

The lead Orao reached the border crossing and released its ordinance. Because the plains where traveling faster than the speed of sound the soldiers and customs guards of the Republic of Kosovo only heard the sound of the fighter planes as the cluster bombs scattered and rained down on them.

The explosives alerted a nearby Kosovar Army base who were high alert of a possible JNA attack.

"So, the murderers come to rape and kill our people again," said a Kosovar lieutenant in Albanian, the primary language of modern Kosovo. "To arms! TO ARMS!!! And someone alert the captain and then call Pristina!"

The Kosovar soldiers grabbed their M16A4 assault rifles, surplus from the US Army and Marine Corps. As a company of Kosovar troops rolled up the road to the border crossing a rocket-artillery battalion of the 281st Yugoslavian Artillery Regiment zeroed in on the towns near the border.

The Kosovars grabbed their weapons and tank crews mounted the tanks and armored personnel carriers. Infantry boarded the APCs while the rest climbed onto the tanks and APCs. They drove up the highway to the border with three tanks leading, five APCs behind the tanks, two trucks pulling towed-AT guns, and a German-built Gepard AA-vehicle.

"Rockets!" screamed a Kosovar private riding on top of an M113A2 Garvin APC, also US military surplus.

"Sir, they're shelling the nearby towns!" shouted an outraged sergeant to his lieutenant.

'They truly have no shame,' thought the lieutenant bitterly.

"Tank!" shouted a gunner on one of the lead Garvins.

A JNA (Yugoslav People's Army) M-84 heavy tank (7) came around the bend in the highway about 140 m ahead of the Kosovars. They heard a bang and saw a bright orange flash in the darkness before sunrise.

"Comrade Captain, this is Hammer 2-1. I have made contact with the enemy and am engaging," said the Serbian tank commander.

"Dobro (good). 2-2 and 2-3 will back you up soon."

"Gunner, 10 degrees left and engage that enemy tank!" ordered the tank commander.

"Da, Comrade Sergeant," said the gunner. He fired a HEAT (High-Explosive Anti-Tank) round at a US-built M60A3.

Infantry on the M60 leapt from the tank but three soldiers were caught by shrapnel as the 125 mm shell exploded. The Patton medium tank took the shell to the back of its turret. It left it disable and had ruptured the ammo chamber. The second Patton tank fired a sabot at the M-84. It punctured the turret and exploded inside of it killing the gunner and commander. Two more M-84 rolled round the bend along with Serbian infantry armed with Zastava M-70 assault rifles. The Kosovars dismounted their armor and sought shelter in the trees along the highway or behind their armor where they returned fire with their M16s.

* * *

**2200 Hours; March 23****rd****, 2012; Shinhachi Compound, Kirkland; Washington State, United States of America**

"You people want to tell me why CNN is telling about this and not you people?!" shouted Jack into his phone. From her corner of the room, Emma watched her fiancé chew out some poor watch officer in Washington. "I don't care it's 0100 Lima there! These things don't happen at convenient hours! That's what a watch officer is for! You are supposed to alert us in the event of an emergency!"

Jack slammed down his phone breathing hard.

"The Yugoslav People's Army is marching across the Kosovar border in spite of outraged European and American leaders. Yugoslavian leaders claim that this is in response to multiple raids by Kosovar militias in response for the assassination of their foreign minister. These raids have placed the Yugoslavians on edge, but the assassination of an important Serbian general."

"Important my ass, this guy was a broken-down political hack the Serbians wanted to get rid of. Kill two birds with one stone."

"Jack, you're going to give yourself a migrant at this rate," scolded Emma. Jack glared at her for a moment and then deflated in his chair. This unnerved the young woman. Jack was running on very little sleep, caffeine, and adrenaline. He looked exhausted and his eyes liked 20 years older than he was. He leaned over on his desk with his face buried in his arms.

When sighed. "Jack, why don't you get some sleep. I'm sure Kosovo and Yugoslavia will still be at war in the morning. You'll be of no use to anyone in this condition. Okay? … Jack?"

She thought Jack was laying face-down on his desk in frustration, but he had actually passed out. Emma dragged him to the next room where they slept. Jack was rather light for a man, especially one in the military. She placed him under the futon. Emma changed into a plain white kimono they she slept in. Emma slipped under the covers with her soon-to-be-husband and pulled him close to her.

Jack was a pretty good looking man when he slept long enough to get rid of the bags under his eyes… and bothered to shave, take a shower, wash his hair…

'I could shave and bathe him while he sleeps,' she thought. It was very tempting on her part, but she decided it could be worse. Jack at least the Japanese for some reason didn't stink or need deodorant. She was too sleepy to do it, but come morning if he didn't take a shower and shave and change his damn clothes then Emma was going to make use of her H&K P-8.

* * *

**0630 Hours; March 24****th****, 2012; Hanger D-1, Pristina International Airport; Pristina Municipality, Republic of Kosovo**

(This section conversations are in Albanian)

"Attention! Attention! All fighters and fighter bombers scramble at once!"

Captain Vera Zannier awoke and rolled out of her bunk. She quickly pulled on her flight-suit, her boots, her Beretta M9, and grabbed her helmet. As she ran down the corridor she banged and pounded on doors shouting, "On your feet you bastards!"

"JRV (8) fighters and fighter-bombers are launching across the border! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!" shouted a corporal over the PA.

"Captain! What's happening?" shouted a very confused 1st Lieutenant Luan Thaçi.

"The soulless-bastards are attack the Republic! Where is Leka?"

"Here, ma'am," said 2nd Lt. Aleksandër Sejdu.

Stumbling up the hall came Zannier's wingman, Fatmir Čeku, he was tying one of his boots as he hopped on one foot down the hall. Zannier reached a door and kicked it open. They piled through the door and into the hanger where ground crews were finishing up fueling and arming four American-built Lockheed-Martin F-16 Fighting Falcons.

"Captain, we've lost contact with the airstrips nearest the border. It looks like fighter-bombers demolished them before their planes got off the ground. There are also reports of villages being bombed along the border."

"Damn them to hell," cursed Zannier.

"Show them the fury of our Republic," said the crew chief with bloodlust in his eyes. "My uncle and aunt live near the border. And one of the villages was theirs."

"They will be avenaged," said Zannier with a snarl.

They rolled across the tarmac to the taxiway. Almost all the planes in the Kosovar Air Force was American-built, but with a few Soviet-made planes that were left behind by the Serbians after the Kosovo War. These consisted of the cheap export fighter the Northrop F-5E Tiger and the retired McDonnell-Douglas F-4E Phantom. There were a couple of MiG-21s, the mainstay fighter of JRV. The elite squadrons were given the Falcon, the best plane in the KAF.

Six squadrons roared across the pre-dawn skies that were starting to changed from a purple to a red-pink east towards the Serbian-Macedonian border.

'Are response is too slow," thought Captain Zannier. 'Why didn't somebody warn us earlier? 15 minutes could have made all the difference.'

The Tigers soared below the main formation. They were unable to climb as high as the Phantom and Falcons and couldn't they climb as fast. The Tigers were an all around inferior fighter with the one virtue of being one of the cheapest fighters to manufacture. These poor pilots were probably going to be shot down on the first pass with JRV.

"Saber Leader here, watch yourselves as we approach the battlefield. The JNA has plenty of SAM launchers."

"Looks like we've arrived," said Thaçi. They could see vaguely see smoke and clearly see the orange of fire.

"Fuck. Those aren't are troops, they're towns!" shouted one of the Tiger pilots below.

"Stick to the plan, Agim. Use thermal and image-enhancement vision to locate the enemy's tanks and APCs. They will pay for the slaughter of our people in their own blood!"

"This is AWACS Engjell (Angel), All Tiger pilots engage enemy ground forces. Show them that we will not bow to them ever again to be murdered and raped by the Serbian pigs. Phantoms, protect them from hostile planes."

"Po (yes), sir."

Zannier watched the Tigers roll into a dive for the ground.

"Saber 3-1," said Saber Leader.

"Po, sir?" responded Zannier.

"Patrol the east. They will probably come out of the rising sun to avoid being seen."

"Of course, sir."

"Pigs! Eat this!" roared a Tiger pilot as she unleashed a series of 500 lbs bombs onto JNA motor-rifle battalion.

"SAM! Pull out!"

It was too late. A JNA SA-13, a Soviet-built mobile-SAM called the Gopher by NATO, fired a missile and destroyed the hapless F-5E. They only heard a terrified shriek seconds before the missile hit and sent the flaming wreckage spiraling into the steep hills that made up the valleys of Balkans.

The rest of the squadron scattered to avoid a second missile shot which successfully took out another Tiger.

While the Gopher enjoyed his little 'turkey shoot' he failed to notice two Tigers from one of the other squadrons dive on him, guns blazing. The weakly armored AA-vehicle exploded from the rain of 20 mm fire.

"Enemy planes! Coming from the east!" shouted the AWACS.

Flight 3 turned to engage the planes not caring the numbers they were facing. A squadron of Phantoms joins them.

Zannier sees her radar display become grainy.

'Shit. They're jamming us,' she thought. 'On your toes boys. These pigs prepared for this day."

"Ma'am," acknowledged her three subordinates.

The sun was rising and see couldn't see, even with the sun visor down on her helmet.

Suddenly she hears a warning buzzer alerting her to a radar scan and possible lock-on. Zannier squinted her sharp eyes into the dawn's skies. They suddenly open in panic and Zannier slams on one of her peddles and jerks her stick to the side sending her plane into dive. Her flight follows and barely avoids the onslaught of JRV Fishbeds.

Looking in her rearview mirror Zannier saw 7 Phantoms either burst into flame or their pilots eject when their planes lose their controls. The MiG pilots were relentless and aggressive in their attack. Their determination to destroy the Kosovars resistance was only matched by the violent hatred the Kosovars felt towards the Serbians. While they held no qualms about the Croatians or other member states of SFRY the Kosovars viewed them as enemies of the Republic and therefore must paid for crossing the border in blood.

Zannier pulled out of her dive and accelerated upwards. From below she could clearly see the enemy. MiG-21bis Fishbeds and lots of them. In fact there were more than she could count at these speeds of just under the mach 1.

"This is the 33rd Mechanized Infantry, there are enemy fighter-bombers attacking us! We need air support!" pleaded a desperate sounding radioman on the ground where flight of J-22s were bombing a group of infantry and APCs trying to set up a roadblock on the highway.

"This is the 30th Armored Battalion! Hostile artillery is preventing our movements!"

"Jesus Christ! They're everywhere!"

"Help u- …. -static-"

"They're too many of them! They're fucking killing us!"

"We can't retreat. We're still evacuating the villages. They'll be killed by the pigs."

"J-22s just bombed the village to the north. We need ambulances and lots of them."

The radio transmissions were full of panicked chatter from ground forces being overwhelmed by the JNA assault. The Kosovar Army only a fraction of the size of the Yugoslav People's Army and was too new to very many trained soldiers. Most of the KA were ex-militia fighters who had fought the Serbians in the Kosovo War with NATO and now wanted to professional service the new Republic.

"Serbian rocket-artillery just shelled a city to the west of the front. We're going to need rescue teams… and bodybags. Small ones will be needed in large quantity."

Zannier let out a cry. A mixture of a sob and a howl of rage. They were killing children!

Zannier was coming up behind what appeared to be an entire fighter group, which would consist of three to five squadrons. Of course the Kosovars had mobilized an entire air wing, three times its size, the Kosovars had less time for training and many had not yet grasped the full capability of their planes, or more importantly, the limitations of their planes.

Zannier saw that the surviving Phantoms were forming around her flight, right behind the Fishbeds. The tone starting blaring in her eyes as it acquired four MiG-21s on her HUD (Heads Up Display). The tone became solid and continuous and the cursors centered on four planes and turned red. Zannier saw her vision turn red. She wanted his bastards to die as she fired four AIM-7 semi-active radar missiles.

Several other planes started firing Sparrow missiles at the MiGs. The JRV pilots scattered knowing that the Kosovars couldn't afford the very expensive fully-active radar missiles like the AIM-54 and the new AIM-120. Semi-actives required that the use must keep his/her plane's lock-on. It was impossible to keep them all in their sights. Still, Zannier had the satisfaction of a Fishbed having its tail being ripped off at the waist of the plane. She was further pleased when she saw the pilot didn't bailout.

A missile warning blared and her HUD turned red. Zannier jinked hard right as a Molniya R-60, know by NATO as the AA-8 Aphid, was fired by another incoming squadron of Fishbeds. The HUD went back to neon-green but turned red again as a second and third missile locked onto her Falcon. Zannier rolled hard into a left turn and dropped flairs to confuse the heat-seeking Aphids. One missile was fooled, but the third remained on her six.

Zannier desperately looked for her wingman, Čeku, in her mirrors and to her sides, but it was too hard to turn her head in a high-G turn. She couldn't keep this up. The human body was not meant to take a series of 9-G turns. Only her training and physical preparation kept her from losing consciousness.

The missile finally lost sight of her but tracers streaked by her cockpit. In her rearview mirror she could see three MiGs on her tail and pounding away with their 23 mm auto-cannons. A round ricochet off her wing and felt fear grip her stomach. She hit afterburners and pulled up towards the sky. Zannier was not been told that the Fishbed could out climb many NATO planes. That it was suicide to try to fight a Fishbed in a vertical dogfight.

"Captain!" cried Čeku. He pulled his plane behind the MiGs and fired an AIM-9 Sidewinder heat-seeking missile. The section lead of the three planes went down in flames and the other two scattered.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I lost you in the first pass."

"It's alright. Stay close."

Zannier turned to take on a flight of MiG-21s that were diving on the F-5Es. The Phantom pilots struggled to keep with the more experienced Yugoslavian pilots and to simultaneously destroy the J-22s and J-20s that were bombing civilians and soldiers alike.

"This is no good. There are too many of them," said Sejdu.

"Shut and shoot," Thaçi ordered his wingman.

'Leka is right though. The Yukes are better trained than most of the conscripts that fly in the KAF. After the war of reunification of Yugoslavia they gained a lot of experience. Their AA-crews have lots of experience from the Kosovo War, the Bosnian War, and the Croatian-Serbian War. We are fucked over completely,' thought Zannier.

"This is AWACS Engjell. We're losing too many planes. All units disengage and RTB (return to base)."

"What?!"

"You bastard! You want us to abandon the ground troop?"

"Are planes can't outrun MiGs!"

Zannier looked back at the battlefield. The Fishbeds were going after the Tigers who were still attacking the KoV (Kopnena Vojska; Ground Forces). The sun was up. The sky was lit up by the sun and the fires of burning towns and companies.

Peoples' homes were burning… people were burning and many of them were innocent civilians who were only guilty of rebelling against Serbia and being part of an independent sovereign nation-state.

* * *

**1100 Hours; March 23****rd****, 2012; Seattle University, Seattle; Washington State, United States of America**

"So what do you want to do for lunch?" asked Jason.

"We could go to the student union. Or we could walk down to Subway," suggested Emma.

"Subway. They at least don't put bacon on my sandwich unless I ask for it," said Maya.

"What do you think, Jack?" asked Jason. Jack was behind a copy of the Seattle Times. They were sitting in the courtyard outside of the history department of Seattle University sitting on a cement wall.

"Jack, you with us?" asked Emma.

"Yup," he said curtly.

"Anything interesting?" asked Maya.

"Press is behind the times as usual. They also haven't mentioned the ethnic cleansing."

Emma felt her stomach clench. Like most of her family living in the US Emma was still greatly in tune with Europe and their native Vatarland (Fatherland). She knew that the Serbs had slaughtered and raped poor Slavic-Muslims, Bosnians, and Croatians living in Bosnia and Croatia. And that the Serbs had done the same in Kosovo to the dominantly Albanian population. The wars in Europe had mostly been about nationalism, politics, resources, and long standing feuds between nations. The ones in the Balkans were more about ethnic conflicts and pre-modern conflicts.

The Balkans had always been carefully watched carefully by Western Europeans, especially the British. Even the Eastern communist blocs like Poland, Czechoslovakia, Ukraine, and, most of all, Russia watched the Balkans. Germany too watched the Balkans carefully and had some troops still in the Republic of Kosovo. She knew that the Chancellor had announced that the single platoon that guarded the embassy in Pristina would be withdrawn once all German citizens were safely out of the country. The US had the largest force, but it was only a company now according to Jack and they had orders not to engage JNA soldiers.

Anybody who monitored the situation in Kosovo knew they didn't have a large or trained military to fight the Yugoslav People's Army. But their NATO allies couldn't interfere in the fighting since officially this conflict was provoked by the Kosovars.

"This is so fucked up," said Emma as they walked to Jack's car.

"Well unless we prove that the assassination of that Serbian general was either the work of the Yugoslavians or the whole thing was made up, which is possible," said Maya getting into the back of Jack's Chevrolet HHR.

"Considering the Yukes will probably bury it under lock-and-key. Misplacing something in a bureaucracy is just as effective as destroying evidence and tends to be easier," said Jason, speaking from past experience. Though, everyone in the car, including Emma, knew that Jack was the real master of finding and hiding things in bureaucracies that were as large as the United States Federal Government or the even larger Soviet Communist Party.

"Eventually we'll have to plead a case before the United Nations Security Council," said Jason.

"The Security Council?" asked Emma. "But the Russians and Serbians challenged Kosovo's sovereignty. Half of Europe along is divided on whether Kosovo a legally a country."

"Then President Crane will do what President Clinton did back in the 90s. She'll appeal to the Human Rights Committee," said Jack. Serbia had been monitor and accused of massive human rights violations in the past in both Bosnia and Kosovo ranging from genocide to mass-rape of entire villages done by Serbian Army units. "It will take a while, but eventually will come authorization to use armed force to kick Serbia and the rest of Yugoslavia out of Kosovo."

"When will that come?" asked Maya sarcastically.

"If we're lucky, but maybe by the summer."

"That's the system at work for ya'," said Jason sarcastically as he closed the car door.

* * *

**0705 Hours; December 14****th****, 1947; ****Unterschleissheim Deutsche Bundesbahn Bahnhof, Unterschleissheim; Bavarian Staat, Bundesrublik Deutscheland**

Lt. Elijah Pryce was kicking snow off the turret of his Sherman tank.

"Just like those Air Force jackasses said," said Pryce to Sgt. Solomon who was sitting under an overhanging roof for an outdoor café and eating breakfast.

"Is that sausage?"

"I'm Jewish. I don't eat pork."

"What is it then?"

"Ground beef of some kind," said Solomon. Solomon knew he'd had some of his best meals here in Germany since we landed in Normandy on Utah Beach with the rest of the 4th Infantry Division. Any US soldier would agree that the best eating they'd done was in Germany. "Kinda' makes you wonder if the Russians are doing this just because they want to eat a descent meal."

"Why fight at all?"

"How knows."

"It's about the spread of communism and the ideals of Marxism," said a third voice from behind. There stood an Asian man with captain's bars on his helmet. Slung over his shoulder was an M1 Garand.

"What?" asked Pryce.

"The Soviets are convinced they have the perfect society and that we, the capitalists, are the enemy of the people and the workers."

"You one of them Chinese commies?" asked Pryce.

"I'm Japanese," said Captain Saito Shinhachi, commander of Company A of the 100th Infantry Battalion. "I read Marx. He made good points but was too unrealistic and too extreme."

"I see," said Solomon. He was a little intimidated by the captain. Shinhachi ignored him. He'd been treated like this enough times for it not to bother him in the slightest.

"Who's in charge?"

"Captain Dawson is mostly in charge. Royal Army," said Pryce inference to the British captain that had led the armored charge into Unterschleissheim.

"Tell him Able Company is patrolling the woods to the east. Locals have seen Soviet scouts poking around," said Captain Shinhachi. He turned and headed east. "Oh, and we brought up some 57 mm guns for the 4th ID. They should even the odds against the Soviet's armor."

"Yeah, thanks."

He was on his way out when Pryce called out, "Hey! What is Ivan doing?"

"Ain't it obvious?" asked Shinhachi called over his shoulder. "They think they're right that Marxist-Communism is perfect and we are oppressive tyrants. They want to bring down the West's 'oppressive government' and free the common worker so he may live equally to all his fellow workers."

"Ain't that a lie?"

Shinhachi stopped in his tracks and turned to face Pryce. "Of course it is."

Saito Shinhachi walked away back to his company.

'Baka,' he thought bitterly. Of course it was a lie. Stalin was just another dictator like Hitler, but hid behind the red banner of communism and called himself 'comrade' to the people.

"He didn't seem very friendly," said Sgt. Solomon.

"We weren't my Aunt Sally either," said Lt. Pryce.

"Where's your little girlfriend?"

"Kate? Probably with her own unit," said Pryce with a shrug.

"Bet you five bucks she's not," said Solomon impassively.

"Sure," said Pryce putting a five dollar bill on the table. Solomon grinned and took it. "Hey!"

"She's right behind you, buddy," laughed Solomon.

Pryce jerked his head around and sure enough there was the young blonde woman wondering over to them. She was wearing the heavier winter uniform that like the American, British, and Soviet winter uniform, fell past her knees. It was white with patches of grey to give it a camouflage effect. In the US Armed Forces only the Marines got camouflage uniforms and it was pretty poor camouflage at best. At best the US Army and Marine Corps wore olive drab uniforms that generally blended in with most forest environments.

"Your winter uniforms are terrible," she said.

"Why?" asked Pryce.

"It's dark brown. Did you generals not think it would stand out?" asked Mauhauser. Pryce looked at his dark brown overcoat. Considering the snow it did seem a bit conspicuous. On that note the olive drab tank he commanded also might have stood out, but on the bright side the weather was burying it under several inches of snow.

"Who was that captain?"

"Captain Shinhachi. One of the Nisei soldiers in our army," said Pryce. In the US Military only the Army took Japanese-Americans. The 100th Infantry Battalion was an Army unit of Second-Generation Japanese-Americans.

"Why are they heading ost (east)?"

"They saw Ivan patrols," said Pryce.

"My experience is when the Kommunist patrol, the main force will soon follow," said Mauhauser.

Pryce had to agree. Most militaries sent patrols to find the enemy and then the main force would follow. This was the very old game of war.

The 4th Infantry were moving the dozen Ordnance QG 6-pounder anti-tank guns to major intersections they thought the Soviets would use when they tried to retake Unterschleissheim. The guns themselves were British designed and the main AT-gun of the Royal Army and were quickly adopted by the US Army as their main AT-gun. It proved deadly against German armor during the war with a high-velocity weapon that could punch through the armor and explode inside of the tank. For heavier firepower the British 41st Rifle Battalion had brought the 17-pounder (76.2 mm) anti-tank gun. The Germans had their Pak 38 40 mm guns and their infamous Flak 36 88 mm guns. On every street corner there were German machine guns or snipers waiting to greet the enemy.

"Did you hear that?" asked Sgt. Solomon.

"Yup. To the east. Sounds like Cap'n Shin-something-or-other found the Commies," said Pryce. They could hear the quick rifle shots of Garands and the rapid chatter of Soviet PPSh-41 sub-machine guns.

Captain Shinhachi had been stalking through the trees with his company. They had found a Soviet patrol and ambushed them. Unfortunately a few ran deeper into the forest and started returning fire. While the PPSh-41 had an impressive rate of fire with a drum-mag that held 71 rounds, but it was a cheap gun that held little accuracy. It had served the Red Army well in the urban battles were they favored mass infantry assaults, but at over a 100 meters they were outside of their effective range. The American M1 Garand was picking them off.

"Sgt. Harima, take 3rd squad around and secure the road before more of these Marxist bastards show up. Lt. Kurosaki, where is the rest of 2nd platoon?" asked Captain Shinhachi.

"5th and 6th squads encountered another patrol, sir," shouted a tall thin man with black hair and grey eyes. A large Staff Sergeant with black hair and dark brown eyes led a squad to the rear, headed further west, and then north to the road as ordered.

Shinhachi ducked behind a tree as 7.62x25 mm rounds started pouring on his position. He peaked around and saw that another squad was joining the patrol. These soldiers all seemed to have rifles judging by the length of the weapons they held.

"Pick off the riflemen. Those sub-machine gunners can't hit us at this distance," order Shinhachi. Of course an SMG could still kill them but the rifles had a much greater chance. Shinhachi raised his Garand and took careful aim. He fired a single shot and saw a Russian crumble. He took another shot, but missed. He fired a quick follow-through shot and hit another Russian. Judging by the fact he was holding his chest the round must have struck him there. Shinhachi saw a soldier reach for something at his hip. Knowing this was not good Shinhachi fired two shots and hit him once in the neck. The soldier fell to his knees and dropped the grenade he was preparing to throw.

"Fuck. I think it's a platoon out there," said Sergeant 1st Class Ben Tsukamoto, company sergeant/aide to the company CO, looking through his binoculars. He put them away and picked up his Winchester M1 carbine. He pulled back the bolt and closed it chambering one of fifteen .30 Carbine (7.62x33 mm). Tsukamoto fired shots at everything that moved. The M1 carbine was very light, compact, and maneuverable, but it didn't have the accuracy or firepower of the Garand and BAR. He shot a soldier in the arm and then fired away at the sub-machine gunners.

**Crack!**

A fire cartridge hit the tree Tsukamoto was hiding behind. The Russian soldier he'd shot had fired his rifle by balancing the barrel of his Mosin-Nagant on a tree branch. The soldier tried to clumsily operate the bolt. Tsukamoto raised his carbine shot him in the neck.

"Maybe we should fall back to a better position, sir," suggested Tsukamoto in Japanese to Shinhachi. Tsukamoto spoke formally because the Shinhachi's were a very prominent family. Even though Ben Tsukamoto was a Nisei (second-generation) and had not communicated with his cousins in some small city called Yagami since 1939 he still spoke like a Japanese man to a superior.

"Ee, so desu. Michi ikimashō. Hayaku!" yelled Captain Shinhachi. "Ueno-kun, radio Harima-kun we are falling back to the last road we past."

In Unterschleissheim it was deafly quiet except for the echo of shooting from the east.

"Sir, the Yanks have encountered Communist patrols. They report that they are being reinforced continuously to suggest that there are more on the way," said a British sergeant major to Captain Dawson.

"Thank you, Sergeant Kelly," said Captain James Dawson as he lit up his pipe and climbed onto his Sherman Firefly, a British variation of the standard Sherman. "Tell the remainder of the 40th to move up to the north and east sides with the 41st Rifles. Major Wilson has placed be in command of the defense of Unterschleissheim so all COs are to report to me."

Dawson saw up the street a stray dog heading south at a trot. 'Now old boy, what do you know that I don't?'

Animals always seemed to know when danger was coming long before humans did. He could remember when all the seagulls would fly in from the sea long before the storm reached them. Dawson knew a storm was coming.

"Katyushas!" shouted a German infantryman as they heard the unmistakable shriek of the rockets.

The Soviets had several of their infamous rocket launchers armed for the siege of Unterschleissheim. They weren't expensive weapons, the Katyusha. It was basically ZiS-5 truck that was the main utility truck of the Red Army with a rack mounted on the bed for sixteen 132 mm M-132 rockets. It was a top secret project, despite being rather low tech compared to the German secret projects that would impress generations for decades. There were too versions, the lighter BM-13 and the heavier BM-31. The Soviets had a mix of both firing a barrage at the hapless NATO soldiers.

"Comrade Colonel, there will be a slight pause while we bring loaded Katyshas into position and move the rest to the rear for rearming," said a lieutenant to Colonel Luzhkov.

"Good. Flush them out for the our soldiers," laughed the Colonel. He looked through his binoculars at Unterschleissheim. He saw some buildings collapse when free-flight rockets rammed into them. Snow, dirt, wood, ice, brick, and stone were thrown into the air. He knew that people were running in the streets and soldiers were bracing themselves for the inevitable ground assault.

"Captain Greshimov, after the third barrage take you company forward. You will have the honor of leading the first wave!"

"Spa-see-ba (thank you), Comrade Colonel!" shouted a captain, who was only 20-years-old, saluting his superior.

An infantry company advanced with two T-34s.

"Mount bayonets, comrades!" shouted Captain Greshimov. The riflemen pulled out old fashion socket bayonets (9) and mounted them on their Mosin-Nagants. Greshimov was clutching a Mosin-Nagant M1891/30 and holding it ready at his shoulder.

He could hear the clank of the T-34s behind them and the groan of snow its tracks.

"Tally oh, boys!" shouted someone in an English accent."

Several flashes from British Lee-Enfields burst 70 yards ahead of them. Greshimov heard it rip through. He returned fire shooting at a silhouette in the window of a house.

"Do not falter comrades!" shouted Greshimov. An anti-tank rocket fired from a Panzerschreck zoomed past one of the T-34s. They heard a moan from above signaling the approach of mortars.

'These men aren't here to fight. They're here to slow our advance for their mortars. Heavy artillery will probably be following,' thought Greshimov. "Forward, comrades! Charge!"

"Hoo-rah!" screamed the Red Army soldiers as they stormed forward in a mass infantry charge. Greshimov was leading the charge with a young man carrying the red banner with hammer and sickle. A commissar was shouting at the soldiers and encouraging them to charge all the way to Munich and on to the Rhine.

It was truly a sight to behold. There was a certain horrific beauty in the mass assault tactic so popular among the Krasnaya Armiya (Red Army) and used to a large extend during the Great Patriotic War. However it was also one reason why the Soviets lost more soldiers during the war than the British, French, Americans, and Germans combined. Racing across an open field did not work to the mix of Russian and Ukrainian soldiers' advantage but the incoming mortars motivated them to keep from stopping. And the commissars armed with sub-machine guns and a few heavy machine guns motivated them not to retreat… and these weapons were not necessarily for the NATO soldiers.

Greshimov paused to shoot a British soldier. A poor Welshman was hit in the neck and fell out of a second story window to the cold snow covered ground. A few soldiers stormed past Greshimov guns blazing and bayonets ready. Greshimov saw that they were charging at a house with several British and German soldiers. A rifleman went right through the ground floor window and bayoneted a British sergeant through the neck.

The Russian was struck several times by 9 mm rounds from an MP-40. A Ukrainian went through the window and tried to fire his rifle but was cut down by the same German soldier. Another Ukrainian armed with a PPSh-41 leaped through the window and blasted away wounding the German sub-machine gunner. Without hesitation the German dropped his weapon and drew a kampfmesser (combat knife) from an arm sheath and rammed it into the Ukrainian's neck severing the carotid artery. Blood burst from the man's neck but the German only pushed him to the side as a Russian with a rifle tried to bayonet the German. The German kicked the rifle out of the Russian's hand and he plunged his knife several times into his chest.

Greshimov couldn't believe he just lost four brave men to one fascist bastard. He leveled his rifle at the German, but two more of his soldiers got in his way. The next thing he saw was that both soldiers were shot in the head by the German with a Walther P-38 handgun. Greshimov fired but the German had disappeared from the window.

The German looked down at his wound.

'I should have bought the Tommies enough time. Now I will take my leave,' he thought as he picked up his MP-40 and run out a backdoor.

Greshimov climbed through the window with his Nagant M1895 revolver drawn and ready. He was disappointed to find the German had gone. He was even more disappointed to find only two dead British soldiers and a single German soldier. In fact it looked like little more than a platoon was holding them back.

"The cowards have retreated comrades!" shouted Commissar Golovko. "Comrade Captain, keep your men moving."

"But Comrade Commissar, these men were clearly buying time and merely delaying us. It could be a trap," said Greshimov.

"Glorious Comrade Stalin wants a victory and he wants it now. If you can't deliver that victory than I will take control of your company," said Golovko.

"Da, Comrade Commissar. My company will continue the attack," said Greshimov. 'I guess everyone is under pressure to deliver the victory we so badly need to end this stalemate.'

Captain Greshimov led his soldiers through the streets with the T-34s.

**Bang! Ka-boom!**

One of the T-34s exploded from a direct hit from a British 17-pounder. A massive barrage of rifle and machine gun fire poured out of the buildings.

'So the Germans and British were buying time for a whole company of British at this intersection,' thought Greshimov.

Captain Edward Barnes wished that the Welshmen long rifles and the German scouts had managed to buy them more time, but it wasn't like two squads could hold off an entire company forever.

"Herr Hauptmann," said a voice. A bleeding German stabsfeldweber (First Sergeant). "Mien (my) squad has withdrawn and will join your companie."

"Danke (thank you)," said Barnes using the little German he knew. 'Really, I was at war with them for five years and been in Germany for over two. I should know the bloody language by now.'

"17-pounder ready?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Here comes Ivan again. Fire when in range!"

Two T-34s rolled down the street firing their coaxial machine guns. The lead one was met by a direct hit from the 17-pounder's 3 inch shell. Its barrel was ripped off and the driver was exposed. The second T-34 fired its 76.2 mm gun and struck a building overlooking the AT-gun. Several soldiers were killed in the blast and rumble rained down on the 17-pounder.

"Shite, they got the AT-gun. Fall back to the next position!" shouted Captain Barnes.

British and German soldiers started throwing smoke grenades to hide their retreat deeper into the city where the Americans were ready.

"Keep moving you wankers! Fall back to the Yank's lines!" shouted Captain Barnes.

Lt. Pryce saw the first of the retreating German-British forces as they reached the square in front of the town hall. A company of the 4th Infantry Battalion of the 4th Infantry Division had set up defensive positions in the square. They had two 57 mm guns and couple of 60 mm mortars. They had two M2 .50 cal heavy machine guns. A company of German Fallschirmjäger was with them. They had a few MG-42s and an 88 mm gun.

Pryce knew that the Americans would probably lost this ground to, what preliminary reports said, a much larger Soviet force of motor-rifle troops.

"Jasper, load an armor piercing round," ordered Pryce. "The Limeys said the Russians are sending a couple of T-34s our way."

Jasper opened the compartment for the 76.2 mm shells. He selected one of the AP rounds and loaded it into the open breech of the gun and then locked it shut.

High above inside a church steeple was Mauhauser. She could see the group of Sherman medium tanks and Jackson tank destroyers. On the street below her was an 88. Looking throw her scope she see her fellow Bundeswehr soldiers falling back with British soldiers. The retreat looked slightly panicked but organized.

Red Army soldiers came into view soon after. It wasn't hard to recognize them because one of them was carrying a Soviet flag. Mauhauser bided her time, not wanting to give away her position. The Red Army had many well trained snipers and it was dangerous to give away her position.

The Soviets charged across open ground towards the American lines. The Americans were using a mix of slit trenches, foxholes, and rubble from destroyed buildings as cover.

There was almost total silence from the US infantry as they waited with rifles trained on the Russian and Ukrainian soldiers.

"Open fire!" shouted a lieutenant.

A massive volley of rifle fire cut through the Soviet infantry. Chaos ensued upon them as all the front ranks fell dead. Momentum is difficult to stop however and many of middle ranks as they reached the front tripped over their own dead. The Red Army soldiers seeing they couldn't charge the Americans without being killed halted and opened fire with their rifles. This made them sitting ducks for mortars.

"We need to group, comrades!" shouted Captain Greshimov and signaling a retreat.

"Comrade Captain, what are you-?" started Commissar Golovko. Blood splattered across Greshimov's face. Golovko was on the ground bleeding. A dark red pool was forming around his head on the pure white snow. Greshimov looked around the buildings. Although he had missed the Great Patriotic War (World War II), he'd seen enough fighting since they had stormed West Berlin in March to know Golovko was the unfortunate victim of a sniper.

Greshimov ran as fast as his legs would take him. He was shouting as he ran for the others to get out of the town center. The Soviets started to retreat.

Greshimov realized that he had lost his rifle, but that was the least of his concerns. He ran between buildings on the north side of the square, rounded a corner, and was nearly run over by a tank.

"Comrade, what are you doing?!" shouted a Soviet tank commander in the dark greenish-black uniform of a tanker from the turret of a T-34. "Why are you retreating?"

Greshimov was on his ass breathing hard and staring up what appeared to be another captain. "I lost a platoon and half of another, Comrade. We are grouping."

The man glared down at Greshimov. "Your company will not retreat. Regroup here and my tanks will bury the Imperialists."

"Da, Comrade."

"And pick yourself off the ground. You call yourself an officer of the Red Army!"

Pryce was sitting in the commander's seat of his Sherman. The Soviet infantry had backed off, but the day was still young. There was no way the Red Army he'd fighting tooth and nail for the over half a year would give up this easily.

There was a distant screech to the north that was getting louder by the second.

"Rockets!" shouted someone with horror as they recognized the sound of approaching Katyushas.

Pryce looked up. The rockets descended upon them from the clouds in a downward arch. Things seemed to be in slow motion for a second, and then the next it was as if the air around them was replaced with flame and shrapnel.

Mauhauser could only watch in horror as the Americans disappeared from view in the series of explosions.

Pryce had ducked down inside the armored turret of the Sherman. His rational side told him that this was pointless, but his natural instinct told him that inside was safer than outside. When the rockets stopped falling Pryce stuck his head out of the hatch and listened to the silence. The silence didn't last though.

"Fucking bastards just don't quite. Ivan tanks incoming!" shouted Pryce.

A T-34 plowed through a brick wall. It moved to its left and made room for a second tank who fired a 76.2 mm shell at the Americans. Pryce saw one of his tanks explode. It suddenly occurred to him that one of his tank destroyers was on fire. He was down to two tanks and three tank destroyers.

The first T-34 took three hits to the front of its armor from the US AT-guns. Two shells bounced off, but the third connected. It did little to stop it though.

"Jasper, hit that thing in the track!" ordered Pryce. Pryce's Sherman struck the Soviet medium tank in the track leaving it immobile.

"Al, finish that one. Jasper, aim for that T-34 at 11 O'clock!" shouted Pryce.

Pryce didn't see a third T-34 creeping out of an alley on his flank. It wouldn't matter anyways. There was no way the thinly armored M4A3E8 Sherman would survive a hit from the more deadly Soviet tank.

Second Lieutenant Elijah Timothy Pryce didn't even hear the shot and barely had time to realize that his tank had exploded.

* * *

Once again I would really like to apologize for this installment coming so late, but I just haven't had the time or energy to right. The semester ends in a few weeks so hopefully the next chapter will come then.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. For those of you how have seen Full House you'll know it's one of Danny Tanner's lines and it's one I think I'll tell my children when they hit puberty.

2. Luzhkov and Filitov are old friends and refer to each other by their nicknames. Dima is a nickname for Dmitriy and Borya for Boris.

3. Chekist is a person who is a Cheka, the original Soviet state security organization. It would be replaced by the Gosudarstvennoye Politicheskoye Upravlenie (GPU: State Political Directorate) in 1922. The GPU was replaced by the GUGB and NKVD in 1934 which were merged together in 1954 to create the KGB that was replaced in 1995 by the FSB, the current Russian security agency. Even though the Cheka was disbanded, people from these intelligence services were still sometimes called Chekists.

4. Operation: Market-Garden was the airborne invasion of Holland that started on September 17, 1944. It was probably the worst defeat for the Allies. Montgomery planned the operation and was in charge of the operation. He would however be one of supreme offices in NATO when it was founded.

5. General Karl Rudolf Gerd von Rundstedt, usually just called Gerd von Rundstedt, was the supreme commander of the Wehrmacht on the Western Front. He had served Germany before the First World War and was one of the longest serving officers in the German military. He was also the oldest officer in the Wehrmacht during World War II. Erwin Rommel was the youngest general in the Wehrmacht. Von Rundstedt was a very skilled officer who graduated from one of the best and toughest officer academies in Germany.

6. The title Secretary of War for the head of the United States Department of War. It was renamed to the United States Department of Defense on August 10th, 1949 and the head's title was changed to Secretary of Defense. Many countries were renaming their military department from 'war' to 'defense' during the late 40s after World War II.

7. The M-84 was the main battle tank of the Yugoslav People's Army. In its version it was based on the Soviet T-72, but resent version in the service of Serbia and Croatia are similar to the new Russian T-90.

8. JRV (Jugoslovensko Ratno Vazduhoplovstvo) is a shortened abbreviation for RV i PVO SFRJ (Ratno Vazduhoplovstvo i Protiv Vazdušna Odbrana Socijalistička Federativna Republika Jugoslavija). I actually don't know what the exact translations are, but it esentually means Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia Air Force.

9. Socket bayonets were the first commonly used bayonet. These kinds of bayonets were used mainly on muskets and were phased out towards the end of the 19th Century. Basically it is a spike with a socket that mounted on the end of the musket. Knife bayonets replaced the socket bayonet because, unlike the socket bayonets, the knife bayonets if it wasn't mounted on a rifle it could still be used as a normal knife for whatever combat or utility purposes a soldier would use. The Mosin-Nagant M1891/30 was one of the last rifles still using socket bayonets.


	11. Chapter 11: March of Chaos

Hey, ya'll. Back again with another chapter. Can't believe I've almost finished my first year at Hamilton College. It is really cold here. We get some snow as late as April.

I got a hold of Command & Conquer: Red Alert 3. In terms of plot the game is a little weaker and doesn't seem to make as much sense. Basically the Soviets are about to lose and the a couple of them go back in time to assassinate Albert Einstein who, if you've played the previous Red Alert games, supplied the Allies with most of their high-technology weapons. So the Soviets go back to their present time and find there are about to drive the Allies off mainland Europe. Then they find themselves under attack from the Japanese Empire of the Rising Sun. For some reason without Einstein, Japan rose as a technological superpower. The campaign you can be either of these three factions: Allies, Soviets, and Japanese. Game play as put a heavy emphasis on naval warfare. You can build all your buildings on water accept for the barrack and war factory (where you build tanks and vehicles). You'll see some familiar sights from Red Alert 2 like the Conscript, the Spy, Kirov Airship, Aircraft Carriers, and a few other units, but they've changed a lot of things too. Also a number of land units in the game can be amphibious. They've also added a more few air units to encourage air combat. I'd say it's worth buying.

I watched an anime called Clannad recently. It's another one of those animes based on a date-sim game that are ever so popular in Japan. I don't know why I watched this because these kinds of anime usually suck, but Clannad surprised me by being really good. The main character is named Okazaki Tomoya who is blunt, calm, and direct, but not uncaring. He is a delinquent (not like Harima though) and rarely attends class. Rather unusual for a main character I thought. He meets a girl named Furukawa Nagisa who is repeating her final year because she had missed most of third year due to an illness, a little stereotypical for a female protagonist but cute nonetheless. Basically Tomoya is a loner with only one moronic friend (who is very fun to watch get beat up by the female characters) and has be disillusioned with human contact after the death of his mother and a fight with his father that resulted in permanent injury to the arm. He meets Nagisa who he starts to spend time with and slowly develops a friendship that turns to affection which becomes feelings of love (of course). Unlike most animes based off dating-sims this one doesn't waste our time wondering which character Tomoya ends up with because he never really shows romantic interest in them, but there are still some great scenes with the other female characters. Instead the creators have created an OVA where Nagisa doesn't exist and Tomoya is with one of the other characters Sakagami Tomoyo. There is another OVA coming much like the first one, but with a different pairing, Fujibayashi Kyou. The show is a mix of comedy, drama, and a little bit of fantasy. I would recommend it to people. There is a sequel called Clannad: The After Story which is more drama… I haven't actually watched it yet, but it is more drama filled and is supposed to have a strange ending, but it is a happy one.

I also started watching Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion. It's an alternate history anime with fighting robots (naturally). Basically what happens is that Napoleon invades England and the British are forced to relocate to their American colonies (which apparently never revolted against them so there is no United States). They are renamed the Holy Britannian Empire who ruled North and South America and New Zealand. Then there is the Chinese Federation (which is actually an imperial monarch despite the name) which rules pretty much all of Asia accept for the Middle East, Russia, and Japan. Then there is the Euro Universe, which is the only democratic nation, which includes all of Europe, Russia, and Africa. In the beginning of the series Britannia invades Japan, which is neutral, and renames it Area 11 taking away the Japanese name, rights, nation, liberties, and pride. The main character, Lelouch Lamperouge, is the son of the Britannian Emperor. His mother was murdered and he knows it was ordered by a member of his family. He was exiled to Japan before the invasion. After the invasion he swore to destroy the Empire. The show is about Lelouch gaining a mysterious power of mind control and him using it to defeat Britannia by leading the Japanese in rebellion. Be warned this show is kind of violent. Themes for this show remind me of Nazi Germany because a lot of the Japanese (called Elevens by the Britannians) are driven into ghettos in the cities that are isolated from the rest of the population much like the Jews were driven into ghettos in Warsaw and Krakow, think scenes from The Pianist or Schindler's List. The Britannians even order the liquidation of the ghettos like the Nazis Racism, classism, and radicalism are also themes in this anime. Sometimes it reminds. me of George Orwell novel… accept I think it has a happy ending, but I haven't gotten to the end yet.

I just read a graphic novel called Maus by Art Spiegelman which is a cartoon version of his father's real story of surviving the Holocaust. As a volunteer at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum I strongly encourage people to read this because it tells a very gripping story of a Polish man trying to survive the wrath of the Nazis. Maus uses animals to represent the people though: the Jews are mice, the Germans are cats, the Poles are pigs, the Americans are dogs, the French are Frogs, and the British are fish. It is a try story. Please read it.

MDela I was surprised a veteran would read this. You have to remember a couple of things, one the reason I wrote off Iraq as a failure was for my story and secondly at the time I wrote that the war didn't look so good. Nothing personal, I respect the armed forces and a lot of my friends are signing up for Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and Air Force. Some are foreigners volunteering for their own nation's military.

Yasuke Hiro, thanks for the review on my other story. If you like this story you'd love Tom Clancy, an author who wrote books like the Hunt for Red October and Sum of All Fears.

Dark-Infinities, thanks for your review. Always glad to hear from our friends Down-Under and fellow former colonists of the British Empire.

I don't own any trademarked or copywritten product. Please review and/or tell a friend.

* * *

**Chapter 11: March of Chaos**

"Once you start a war

You are likely to lose control."

Former British Prime Minister Winston S. Churchill

**????; Location Unknown**

'Am I dead?' was his first thought.

He did not open his eyes for fear of finding he was truly gone from the world. Slowly he moved his figures. They were still there and moved. He could feel with his hands that he was on a cold surface… maybe wood.

A sharp cry from a bird made him open his eyes in panic. He was greeted by a grey sky.

'Is this death?' he wondered. He was lying on his back on this cold surface staring at the sky. He turned his head to the left and then tried not to scream. There was a man. He was dead and it appeared he'd been that way for a couple of hours. There were crows peaking at his flesh. He tried to sit up and chase away the scavengers, but couldn't move. Then the awful truth hit him.

He was in the remains of a home. The roof had collapsed and everything below his chest was under rumble. By some miracle he was alive and he could still move his toes which told him that he wasn't paralyzed.

He wanted to cry for help, but he was scared that he was no longer in friendly territory. He was quite sure that his fellow soldiers had been overrun by the enemy. How long again could that have been? Hours? A day? It couldn't be more than a day. Several buzzards, crows, and other scavenging birds circled overhead. The way they silently drifted across the sky without move their wings looked horrifyingly like a group of bombers.

He heard the sound of a tank engine and he thought he was saved. He almost cried out when he heard the voices of the soldiers speaking an unfamiliar language. He wasn't sure but the young knew it wasn't the one spoken in his country.

He played dead. He could hear the voices get louder. There was a pause in footsteps and he was sure they were looking around at dead bodies surrounding him.

"Are they dead?" asked one.

"Everything seems fine. Let's keep moving, comrades."

The sounds faded. He let out a sigh of relief and said, "That was close."

"Very," agreed a second voice.

The young man screamed, but a gloved hand was placed over his mouth.

"Quiet, my friend. The enemy is gone only for now," said a man camouflage-painted face and a ghillie suit.

'A sniper,' thought the young man.

"Su quheni (What is your name)?" asked the sniper.

"Private Jak Meksi, 10th Infantry Battalion," said the young man.

"Sergeant 1st Class Ermir Ruli, Army Sniper Corps," said the older man lifting up the section of roof that had Meksi trapped. Meksi quickly slipped out from under. "Don't stand too quickly."

Meksi slowly stood. He was quite satisfied that his legs worked.

"Faleminderit (Thanks you)."

"S'ka përse (You're welcome)."

"Uh… what is today?" asked Meksi.

"The 24th. You're unit was overrun a few hours ago," said Ruli.

"Why are you still here?"

"I'm to locate and eliminate targets of opportunity," said Sergeant Ruli. "You are going to make yourself useful and help me."

"Po (yes), sir," said Meksi in his native Albanian tongue.

There was a pause. "You are going to pick up a rifle, right Pvt. Meksi?"

"Eh? Më falni (excuse me), sir!" apologized Meksi.

"Take your time," said Ruli rolling his eyes. Meksi grabbed the first weapon he could find, which was a Colt M4A1 carbine. "Follow me and keep quiet."

Ruli moved quietly and stayed close to the shadows. Meksi, who wore an old patchwork-style camouflage tried to keep as low as possible. Every now and then Ruli would look to make sure that the young private was following. Meksi was the first survivor the Kovosar Army Sergeant had found in hours since the JNA plowed across the border and lay waste to this once proud crossroads town.

They crawled through destroyed homes and businesses. They passed numerous corpses of Kosovar civilians and soldiers. Since it had only been a few hours and the bodies hadn't started to decay, which was little comfort to the two Kosovar soldiers that they wouldn't have to deal with the overwhelming stench of death. The only company they had were black crows circling in and swarming over the dead.

"There were too many of them," said Meksi.

"I figured as much," said Ruli passively. He was mostly thinking about his orders and looking for signs of targets he was to eliminate.

"The Air Force came and bombed the Yukes a little, but ran when they started losing too many planes. Artillery, rockets, and mortars did most of this damage. The rest was done by an armored company… we just didn't have a chance," said Meksi sadly.

"Quiet, my friend," said Ruli. "We are not alone."

Meksi dropped to his stomach and held his breath.

"I see a BVP…. hmmm, a command version. A UAZ escort and dozen armed guards with M70s," reported Ruli mostly to himself. A couple of them were smoking and one was standing by a tree relieving himself. The BVP was a Yugoslavian clone of the Soviet BMP. It was the BVP M80A KC… or the KB, they were hard to tell apart. The KC version was for company commanders and the KB was for battalion commanders. It had a 20 mm auto-cannon which told him it wasn't the division commander version… too bad for Sgt. Ruli who was hunting officers.

"Do you have binoculars?" asked Ruli.

"Po," said Meksi reaching for his belt.

"Do you know how to distinguish between Yuke ranks?"

"Jo (no), sir," said Meksi. "I see red markings on their shoulders."

"Those are enlisted soldiers. Ignore them."

"I see three stars."

Ruli looked through his scope. "See that arch with the stars? That means he is a sergeant senior."

"What about the man with the four stars next to him?" asked Meksi.

"Hmm, that's a captain 1st class (1). Let's what them for a little bit."

"Are you going to shoot him?" asked Meksi.

"I need to determine if he is worth exposing our presence and risking our lives over. That is one of the most important things for us snipers."

"Po, sir."

"He looks like he is inspecting the damage. Probably a general's aide. He's of too little value. Let us relocate," said Ruli.

"Sir, I see more vehicles coming from the northwest."

'Three UAZs. Two with machine guns. One in the middle with several radio antenna. Looks promising,' thought Ruli.

"Sergeant, I see some kind of crescent shape… like a reef, and two stars."

"It is our lucky day my friend. That is a lieutenant colonel-general (2). Now let me think if there is a way to shoot him without being killed, ourselves," said Sergeant Ruli. Such a perfect target and there didn't appear to be a way of shooting without being shot. There were no dogs, which was good. Trained dogs could be one of the greatest threats to any unconventional soldier like commandos and snipers. There was no sign of other shooters. There were only officers, NCOs, a few MGs, and a bunch of riflemen. There was also a man with a shoulder-launch SAM off to one side, but he wouldn't be a major threat to the two Kosovars.

Ruli gently pulled back the bolt on his rifle, a British-built Accuracy International with sound-suppressor attached, to make sure there was a round in the chamber. Sure enough he saw the brass-colored cartridge with a silver-grey steel head, which was the actually projectile. One steel-jacketed 7.62x51 mm round ready to go. It was standard powder grade though. High-powered cartridges would wear out the silencer. More importantly even a really good silencer could only do so good against high-power ammo.

"When I fire we will escape the way we came. Clear?"

"P-po, sir," said Meksi shaking from nerves.

Ruli took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. The human body is most relaxed on the exhale and snipers always shoot during this moment for greatest accuracy. His figure tensed on the trigger. He settled the crosshairs a little above to the right of the target to adjust for wind. He was 258 m away from the target and had to account for distance, light refraction, wind, speed of the bullet, rate at which the bullet would descend, and what movements the target may make. Most importantly, Ruli had to have an escape plan. Whether he missed or not would irrelevant. There would still be several soldiers that would immediately start looking for him the moment the trigger was pulled.

'Mirupafshim (good-bye),' thought Ruli. There was a sharp noise, but nothing compared to what it would have sounded like if there hadn't been a suppressor.

The general had been turning his head when one side. He felt something hit him, but nothing more. He did not feel the other side of his head practically explode as the steel-jacketed round exited his head.

It was not apparent to the Yugoslavians on what had just taken place. By the time they did it was too late. Ruli was quietly moving away from them back into the town with Meksi following as stealthily was he could.

They crept through buildings. Occasionally they would deviate from their original course. Ruli would pause to make sure they weren't being pursued.

"Stop," ordered Ruli. "Don't move."

Meksi dropped to his stomach. He could hear an engine from a small vehicle, probably not a truck or APC. He could hear men shouting and guessed there were probably men on foot.

"Play dead," said Ruli. Ruli knew his camouflaged ghilley suit would hide him, but not Meksi's woodland camouflage. But Meksi had blood on his uniform and his clothes were battered from when the building collapsed on him. If he could lie still he would be mistaken easily for just one more dead Kosovar soldier.

A Yugoslavian soldier entered the building they were in through a large hole in the wall. He was young with dark hair, round head, pale face, and straggly hair. To a Western, like Germans and British, these Serbians would look the same as the ethnic-Albanian Kosovars. But Ruli could see subtle differences that made this man a Serb, if not a Serbian. He look at Ruli for a moment, but not able to tell what he was actually looking at. He looked at a middle-age man on the floor lying on his back and Pvt. Meksi lying on his stomach. He soldier nudged the man and Meksi with his boot. Deciding nothing was amiss he walked through the front door that had hanging on its hinges.

They waited and an hour later the same patrol came back on their way to the vehicles. This time three soldiers passed through. Meksi had gone rigid when he heard them approach, but the Yugoslav soldiers seemed too frustrated with their failure to locate the sniper to notice the two Kosovars hiding almost in plain sight.

"Wait a little longer incase more come," said Ruli. Meksi moved his left hand into a thumbs-up position to show he understood and left it go limp again. After 15 minutes Ruli decided it was time to go. He would've liked to have wait longer, but was worried the Yugoslavians may call in a chopper to hunt them from the sky, and a chopper would have thermal sensors.

They crawled through the dead. It worried Ruli that some of the pools of blood hadn't dried yet and that meant he and Meksi were leaving very visible footprints. Also they passed crowds peaking away at the dead indiscriminate of whether they were man, woman, or child. This was both horrifying and disgusting, but more dangerous was the fact they would take flight once they caught sight of the two Kosovars. If someone was watching they could track Sgt. Ruli and Pvt. Meksi's progress.

He checked the sky. He hoped it might rain, then their tracks would be covered.

Meksi looked at the birds as their cawed sharply and looked at him with their empty black eyes. He felt like he was going to throw up when he saw one of the birds had pulled out the eye of a woman and the scavengers started fighting over it. These things didn't care that that was once a living breathing person. To them it was a meal. The coldness and indifference to the life that once was made Meksi's blood boil with rage. He associated the with the Serbians, cold, evil, indifferent, and self-absorbed… or that was his point of view at the least, and one many of his countrymen would share. 'Is this what we are to this fucking Yuke bastards?! Food for the scavenging animals?!'

"Did you kill him?" asked Meksi.

"Jo (yes), Private," said Ruli taking a sip of water.

"Now what? When can I go back to my unit?"

"…" Ruli did not answer. Truthfully he knew that Meksi didn't have a unit to return to. He had no idea if the Army had managed to make a line of defense to stop the JNA from storming the capital, Pristina.

"We'll head south to the capital, but first I must report in."

Jak Meksi nodded as he took off his helmet and whipped off sweat. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and wondered if the rest of his country was being lost as fast he they'd been overrun.

And… when it was over, would he have a home to return to? A family still alive? Would there even be a country for him? Was this the end of the short-lived Republic?

* * *

**2159 Hours; March 24****th****, 2012; Natsuyami Inn, Kyoto; Kyoto Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Haruki was sitting in the hot springs trying to unwind. Kenji was sitting next to him sitting up at the stars.

In the distance they heard the deep toll of a bell at one of the many Buddhist monasteries around Kyoto. In the Nara Period, Nara had been the capital of Japan… or at least home to the Imperial Family at the time. Buddhism had been at its most influential moments on the Japanese court. In fact they had immense influence over who succeeded to the throne as Emperor and had more influence over the people in Nara, which the courtiers and the Imperial Family did not like. The decision was made to relocate the capital away from the Buddhist monks' power hold to Western Japan. They named the new capital Heian-kyo and marked the beginning of the Heian Period. After the Heian Period, in the Kamakura Period, Heian-kyo was renamed Kyoto. Buddhist monasteries surrounded the outskirts of the old capital, but because of old Imperial doctrines the temples weren't allowed to be built inside of the city… or at least that was what Tenma said.

There was a monastery not too far away. There was also a Shinto shrine nearby where the ceremony would take place in roughly 12 hours. Kenji had his kimono ready in his room.

"You ready?" asked Kenji.

"… so deshoo (I wonder)," said Haruki thoughtfully.

"kowaii ne (scary, ain't it)?"

"Ee, ma (maybe). No turning back though."

"Mm," grunted Kenji in agreement. "Ii daroo to omou (I think it will probably be okay)."

"So ne (probably) (3)," agreed Haruki sinking a little into the hot water feeling his body being cleanse by the waters being forced to the surface by the volcanic activity.

"So… have you asked Yakumo yet?" asked Haruki.

"No, not yet," sighed Kenji. "Things keep coming up."

"It was hard to ask Mikoto. Part of me was so sure she would laugh in my face," said Haruki. It seemed so stupid now. He'd known Mikoto for most 15 years now. He should have known the answer. Hell he should have gone out with her years ago. Why hadn't he? Maybe there was truth in the common female belief that all men are idiots.

"It doesn't feel like it is a hard decision to me. Pretty sure this was the easiest one I've ever made. It's just things keep getting in my way," said Kenji leaning against a rock. He loved Yakumo. She loved him. He wanted to provide for her and protect her from the dangers of the world. She accepted his many short-comings and his past and could still love him. It would be impossible to ever find another.

"I wonder where she is," said Kenji after a long silence. "She didn't join us for dinner."

Haruki didn't answer. He had his suspicions about why but wondered what to say.

There was a rustling sound as someone passed through the cloth draped over the entryway.

"Konban (evening)," said the young Army officer Urashima Keitaro.

"Konbanwa (good evening)," said Kenji and Haruki, taking care to use polite speech to their superior. Lt. Urashima sat on a wood stool in front of a series of faucets. He filled a plastic basin and proceeded to scrub himself.

"You two ready for tomorrow?" asked Urashima.

"I guess," said Haruki.

"I think I prepared everything," said Kenji.

Urashima smiled. "You two make quite the little duo."

Asou Hiroyoshi entered the baths next followed by Kurosaki Ichigo. Ichigo was muttering something about his father.

"How are you boys doing?" asked Urashima. They made grunts and murmured answers. Kenji and Haruki spent the whole day doing final preparations. Hiroyoshi and Ichigo had long drives from the middle of the Kanagawa Prefecture.

"Is that radio working?" asked Hiroyoshi seeing the radio left out for the guests enjoyment.

"Probably," said Haruki.

"Turn it on… onegai," said Hiroyoshi wanting some relaxing sounds.

Haruki nodded and turned on the radio to an NHK broadcast (4). It consisted of some pop music and some rock.

"This is NHK Kansai Region broadcast and now for a news update before we listen to the nation's top ten list. In regional news there was a mud slide near Otsu as mountain snows continue to melt in the spring thaw. The Kansai Regional Government has issued an advisory to those traveling along roads in the mountains between the Shiga and Kyoto Prefectures where additional mud slides are feared.

"Mitsubishi's factory in the Mie Prefecture reports they are expanding and now looking for able bodied workers and college educated technicians and engineers.

"In national news, the Diet announced plans for new mutual economic trade agreement with the Republic of China (Taiwan) and Republic of (South) Korea. The Republic of Vietnam has expressed interest in joining.

"The Ministry of Education has reported that numbers of high school graduates this year will be an all-time in decades. The experts optimistically say that the balance between the youth and elderly in Japan's population has been restored.

"In international news the European Union demands the immediate withdraw of all Yugoslavian forces from the Republic of Kosovo. This invasion has been condemned by the United States President and Congress as well as our Diet, Prime Minister, and his Excellency Emperor Akihito. Little information is available at this time, but indications suggest that Yugoslavian soldiers may be deliberately attacking Kosovar civilians.

"And now back to our normal broadcast…"

There was dead silence, save for the radio, after the report on the invasion going on in Eastern Europe.

_Deliberately attacking Kosovar civilians._

The word _murder_ slowly drifted to everyone's mind. Urashima, who had been to the Balkans, knew about the ethnic conflicts between the Yugoslav republics. This was a war that was very complex and beyond most of the present people's current understanding.

"The Navy is prepping for sortie," said Urashima. He remembered his girlfriend, Narusegawa Naru, saying that she would have to report to Yokosuka Naval Yard by 1st of May. Some of his younger tenants at the Hinata Dormitory were getting letters from the Ministry of Defense soliciting them to join the Army, Navy, Air Force, or Home Guard.

"They haven't told us anything," said Hiroyoshi.

"Army is already ready," said Urashima. "We went through our training cycles and replacements were integrated in. Mostly we're waiting on new equipment and the Navy to be able to transport us to Europe."

'We'll be the first to go,' thought the Second Lieutenant. 'Us, the 10th Infantry and the 2nd Armored. Probably the 5th Armored Division too. The Airborne will probably be airlifted and sent into battle before we even arrive. Poor bastards.'

"Everyone know the drill for tomorrow?" asked Kenji. There were nods and grunts again. Kenji, the immediate family of Haruki and Mikoto, and a select few people would be at the actually wedding ceremony. Shinto weddings were quiet and private affairs. Most of the guests were here for the party after the ceremony in which they would congratulate the newlyweds. "I'm going to go to bed."

Kenji rose from the water, wrapped a towel around waist, and headed into the changing room. He felt weary. It wasn't unlike the weariness the war left him with between battles. He was very alert, almost jumpy, but emotionally drained and left with a strong urge to sleep and be lost to this world, it only for a moment. These moments would hit him every now and then. Flashes of a North Korean impaled on his bayonet would appear before him. Images of mangled civilians in a bank in Pusan haunted him.

Kenji put on his white T-shirt. He reached inside the cubbyhole for his room key and the velvet box. He opened it. Inside on the pearly-white interior was a small ring. It was gold and had a single diamond. It wasn't the best but he was able to afford it. Inside the ring was written: Aijin. Ai, meaning love, and Jin, meaning person. It roughly translated into English as 'Beloved', loved person was probably a more literal translation.

Kenji gently examined it as he'd done hundreds of times since he bought it. It was funny that such as small item represented all his feelings and he'd done. It almost seemed so insignificant compared to everything else.

Yakumo sat in the female baths. She had heard their discussion and the radio which was in the middle of a song by bang called Tokio. Mai, Tenma, Eri, and several other members of the Yagami High School's Class of 2010 and 2011 sat listening. For some of these girls it meant losing the men near and dear to them, for many others it meant being shipped off to a far away land into another fray.

Yakumo silently got up and headed to the changing area. She retrieved her underwear, pulled on the robe provided by the inn. She felt depressed.

"Harima-kun," she hears a voice, which Yakumo had come to hate, called out ahead.

"Ah, Tsukino-san, konbanwa," greeted Kenji sounding weary. Yakumo knew that tone. It was one he adopted when we was tired and reflected old memories. Kenji talked very little about what he thought about in these moments and he didn't like to talk in these moments.

"So, what are you up to?" she asked. Yakumo slumped against the wall where she stood and listened to the conversation happening just around the corner from her.

"Going to bed," said Kenji.

"Oh… I was hoping we could toast completely the wedding preparations being finished," she said seductively, which once again was lost upon Harima Kenji. She placed a finger on Kenji's well toned chest and traced circles on it. Too deeply lost in his own thoughts of past memories and the impending threats of another war Kenji did not notice her actions. Peeking around the corner Yakumo saw with horror what was happening. She couldn't see Kenji's eyes. She could only see that his shoulders were slumped and he was totally unresponsive.

Taking encouragement from Kenji's inaction Tsukino said, "Your best friend is getting married. It must be so lonely for you."

"Huh, ee (yeah), whatever," Kenji said vaguely. Not for the first time in the life Kenji was totally oblivious to the signals he was sending.

Tsukino leaned in and gently kissed Kenji on the lips and slowly slipped in her tongue. For one second Kenji did nothing, the next second he realized something was happening, the third second he realized what was happening, and on the forth his mind went into overdrive. Tsukino was nearly through across the hall into the opposite wall. Hers and Yakumo's ears were ringing with the sudden yell of shock and horror from the young man. Tsukino looked at him with a mix of surprise and hurt. Kenji was against the opposite wall pressed so hard against it that it seemed like he was trying to go through it. Yakumo was breathing hard and she didn't know what she was feeling.

In one move Kenji was gone. Yakumo saw something fall to the floor from his pocket as he turned a corner down the hall. Tsukino slowly walked away. Yakumo hid from her.

Kenji barricade himself in the room. He was tempted to push the furniture against the door and even the sleeping Kazu. Kenji's whole body was shaking violently. He felt sick, confused, horrified, and self-loathing. It just like the first time he'd killed a man. Kenji even wanted to throw up.

This was his fault. It had to be. Everything was his fault. He was such an idiot after all. Kenji collapsed on the floor and felt tears well up in his eyes. He wondered how he could have thought his life was finally coming together. Depression washed over him and he drifted off into sleep.

Yakumo approached the small item that Kenji had dropped. A small royal-blue velvet box. She picked it up and opened it. A gasp escaped her and mouth hung open. The ring sat snugly secure upright. She would see the inscription in the inside of the ring. On the outside was a pattern of clouds etched into the gold (5). She closed it with a snap and with both hands she held it to her heart. Relief washed over Yakumo.

The door to Kenji's room creaked open and Yakumo peeked in. By this time Haruki had returned, found Kenji lying in front of the door, and had dragged him to his futon before going to bed himself. Yakumo was a little surprised the door wasn't locked, but entered anyways. All the fear, shock, uncertainty, pain, and sorrow he felt were reflected on his face. Yakumo pulled out from the pocket of the haori and placed it into Kenji's hand, then she pushed his fingers together around the box.

"Oyasuminasai (good night)," she whispered into his ear before placing a soft kiss on his right temple. Harima Kenji looked like his body relaxed a little.

* * *

**???? Hours; December 15****th****, 1947; Somewhere, Unterschleissheim, Bavarian State, Federal Republic of Germany**

I'm cold.

That was his first thought.

Something hit him in the face. It was cold, loose, and seemed to spread out upon impact. He heard the distinct sound of a shovel slicing into the ground. He was being buried. He moved and groaned. There was a gasp and a clatter.

He opened his eyes. It was night. He was in a hole… a grave… his grave.

There was a silhouette in front of him. It had dropped a shovel with a square blade. He could not see who it was or what uniform it was. The overcoat was long and looked… Russian.

He figure stepped into the grave and slowly approached him. He scooted back, but his body's response was slow. A small hand was placed on his arm to stop him. He struggled.

A hand was gently placed on his cheek. It shifted to his under his chin and applied a little pressure, not to force him to look up but to merely encourage him to.

"Kate?"

"Willkommen (welcome) back," said the young German sniper. Mauhauser ducked under his arm and helped Lt. Elijah Pryce stand up. Pryce was mildly surprised by her strength, but was too out of it to truly appreciate it. He looked back at the grave.

"What happened to my tank?" asked Pryce.

"… it's gone," she said. "You were blown clear of the tank, but your crew were incinerated with it."

"Did anyone in mein kommpandie (my company) survive?"

"Two Shermans and two panzerjager (6) managed to escape with most of the infantrie. The Kommunists tried to keep up with the retreat, but couldn't keep up. Some of your soldiers are still fighting the Kommunists," said Mauhauser.

As Pryce became more aware of his surroundings he could hear the echo of rifle fire and chatter of automatic weapons.

"Can you stand?"

"Ja," he said quietly. He wobbled a little, but steadied. He had no helmet. Only a few personal belongings stuffed into a shirt pocket and a Colt M1917 double-action revolver at his thigh. It had been his grandfather's in the First World War. It was a six-shooter made by Colt, but also made by Remington and Smith & Wesson, that fired standard .45 ACPs. It was similar to the British standard issue Webley revolvers.

He drew it from the holster and followed Mauhauser.

"Why'd you stay?" he asked.

"My position was surrounded by Kommunist soldiers. I could not escape so I observed. It appears there is a division pushing south for Munich with another coming. The Red Army is throwing too many soldiers to fight a broken regiment of NATO truppen (troops)," she remarked. She began to walk and headed down various alleys and backyards and avoided the main roads.

"Then this force will probably reorganize and launch an attack on Munich pretty soon," he said. 'So Ivan is finally going lay siege to Munich. The jewel of Suden Deutsche (southern Germany).'

If Munich fell then NATO would lose the anchor on their defense in the south. It would also open major road and railways to Soviet and Yugoslavian forces. Additionally, Munich's lose would be a huge blow to everyone's morale.

Mauhauser paused and Pryce almost walked into her. There was dead Estonian, not that Mauhauser or Pryce could tell the difference between Russians and Estonians, or others that were part of the Soviet Union. Mauhauser picked up the overcoat and handed it to Pryce.

"Take it, Herr Pryce. Your uniform doesn't blend in with the snow," said Mauhauser. He pulled on the Soviet coat. It was poorly made, itchy, rough… but it was warm. It was also whitish-grey and blended in with the surrounding snow much better.

'Why the hell don't we have white winter clothing?' he wondered. It didn't occur to Pryce that neither the British nor the Americans had done major winter fighting during World War II. When the British first engaged the Germans in 1940 they were forced to retreat across the English Channel before summer had started. Most of the land battles had been in North Africa even when the US troops arrived in November 1942. In September 1943 the Allies had invaded Italy and fought there until the end of the war, but Italy wasn't famous for harsh winters… though blizzards had halted their advances. No, the first really tough winter the Allies faced was December 1944 in Belgium, the Battle of the Bugle. The Germans from the experience they were gaining against the Russians had proper winter gear of the appropriate color as oppose to the Allies who were dark brown.

"Someone already took his gun," noted Pryce. 'Great, I only have a hand gun against a division of riflemen and tanks.'

Meanwhile, Mauhauser was looking at the tracks in the snow. There were boot prints, but not Russian or German. 'An Amerikaner scharfschütze (American sharpshooter)? … nein, the Amis don't have many scharfschütze.'

She picked up a single shell casing. 'This is a 45 ACP (Automatic Colt Pistol). The type used in American handguns and machine-pistols.'

"Amis have been here."

"So has Ivan. In the street. Those are tracks from a T-34," said Pryce pointed to the road.

There was a crack from a rifle not too far away. Maybe four blocks away. It was followed by a volley of automatic fire.

"Sounds like a Tommy Gun," said Pryce walking towards the noise.

Mauhauser grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the shadows. She trained her Kar 98 K up the street looking through her Zeiss-made scope (8). "Alles ist klar (all is clear). You have to more care full, Herr Pryce. If there been someone watching this street..."

She did not have to finish her sentence and she didn't for effect.

They crossed the street and into anther alley. They ducked through backyards, aware they were leaving a trail in the snow. It had stopped snowing and stars were even visible, but more clouds were blowing in from the northeast and would be upon them before sunrise and before US and British planes could take off.

They crept through the alleys. Pryce was starting to wonder where everyone was. There weren't even stray dogs or cats wandering about. Maybe the civilians decided to flee into West Germany fearing this very counter-attack from the Soviets. Then he saw someone down a side alley. Judging by his stance it was a man urinating onto a fence. He was just finish when Pryce saw him. The man zipped up his pants and then picked something up.

It was a gun.

Pryce's eyes widened. He saw the thick cylindrical barrel, rifle grip, and drum magazine unique to the PPSh-41.

"Shit," he said hoarsely. Although Mauhauser didn't understand the curse it did get her attention to the side alley.

"Ilya, Olga? Is that you?" called out the man in Russian. He saw a male and female ahead of him. It did strike the Russian as odd that the man, he thought was Ilya, was not carrying his rifle. Or that the woman, Olga, was not wearing the Soviet overcoat… in fact the helmet she was wearing looked… German?

"Kto eto (who are you)? Chto vy skazali (What are you doing)?" demanded the Russian raising his sub-machine gun at the German and American. "Otkuda vy (Where are you from)?"

Mauhauser froze in fear. She could shoot, but it would attract more Russians. The shootout wasn't too far away, but it had stopped. Were there friendly soldiers nearby… or were they all dead. Either way Russians were close. They would hear the shot.

Mauhauser saw a sudden movement from the corner of her eye and brief scream from the Russian. There was a knife in his neck. It had severed his artery. He was on his back and rolling around as blood squirted from his neck and mouth.

"Damn, I never thought I'd use that," said Pryce. He approached the Russian soldier. The Russian gave one last gag and then his head tilted to the side. He was dead.

"_Was_?" asked Mauhauser weakly.

"We use to throw knifes at a wood block when I was a kid. It killed time in the evenings during the summer. Never thought I'd use that to kill someone instead," said Pryce. His hands were shaking slightly. He attempted to retrieve the US Army version Ka-Bar, which looked the same as the Marine Corps Ka-Bar except it had USA (United States Army) engraved above the hilt instead of USMC, but just bring himself to approach the gory scene. Mauhauser pulled out the combat knife and wiped it off on the sleeve of the Russians coat. She handed it and the sub-machine gun to Pryce.

"Never killed a man this close have you?" asked Mauhauser gently.

"Nein (no), I have. Just never gets easier," said Pryce sadly taking back the knife and accepting the Burp Gun (9), the common American nickname for the Soviet PPSh-41. He also accepted the belt with pouches containing additional magazines. "He was a German. Climbed on my tank and tried to drop a grenade in."

The shooting had stopped, but they could hear more firing. A mixture of German, British, American, and Russian guns making a bizarre and orchestra of bangs and explosions. The stars were fading from the sky as clouds rolled overhead with the fresh wave of snow, fog, and ice. White flashes from flares and distant artillery lit up the night coupled with red and green flashes from tracers.

Pryce and Mauhauser were eerily alone, but far from out of danger in a city still raked with fighting. They could only hope to fight a friendly patrol before their allies had completed the withdrawal back to Munich.

* * *

**0600 Hours; March 25****th****, 2012; Natsuyami Inn, Kyoto; Kyoto Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Kenji was a little disoriented… and sore, when he awoke. Haruki's alarm was beeping and he could hear his engaged friend sitting up. In another part of the room he could hear Kazu stirring, however it sound very much against his will. Kenji remembered last night's events and then wanted to died in a corner and be forgotten.

He didn't know how to explain this to Yakumo. He had to tell her… besides, he was a terrible liar and it was like she could read minds. Kenji was upset and angry and clenched his hands into fists only to find there was an object in one of them. He turned his head and saw the box. Another memory of last night was triggered by this. Hadn't he dropped this?

"Oi, Haruki. Did you return this?"

"Nani sore?" asked Haruki as he grabbed his toiletries. "You lost it?"

"Uh, never mind. Did you Kazu?"

"Ie, came in and it was already in your hand," said Kazu.

'But who then? Ichigo? Lt. Urashima? Renji? Fiona? Mai-chan? An employee here?' Kenji wondered. He opened it was greeted by the ring that seemed to shine despite the fact the sun hadn't actually risen yet.

"Oh well, better clean up," sighed Kenji rising to his feet and exiting the room.

After bathing, brushing his teeth, shaving, and combing his hair, Kenji began to dress in a black kimono with white symbols below the shoulder and on the back. He slipped on zōri, a sandal, and then headed to the shrine. As he walked he saw Mai waiting for him dressed in the same kimono that Hiroyoshi and Sarah had bought her for her 11th birthday. It was called a furisode, a type of kimono that were colorful, had wide sleeves, and worn by unmarried women. Traditionally Japanese women would wear the furisode at coming-out or coming-of-age celebrations, or weddings of friends or relatives.

Mai was talking with Natsuyami Tsumugi, his now married classmate. She was wearing her usually round glasses, but instead of her usually braids she wore her hair in a bun instead. Tsumugi wore a kimono called a homongi. The colors were more pastel than the furisode. The homongi was worn by both married and unmarried women and in weddings usually by close friends at the reception.

"Ohayo gozaimasu (good morning)," greeted Tsumugi.

"Ohayo, Onii-chan."

"Ohayo, Mai-chan, Tsumugi-san," greeted Kenji.

"Kenji-kun, are you leaving now? It seems a little early," said Tsumugi.

"Ee, I thought I might do some final checks. Mai-chan, you stay with Tsumugi-san for a little while longer," said Kenji.

"Ie, I'll go with you. Shitsurē-shimasu (excuse me), Natsuyami-san," said Mai bowing to her elder.

They walked out into the early morning air of the mountains that surrounded the former imperial capital, Kyoto, which literally meant capital city, Tokyo meaning east capital. It was a city that had resisted change and yet was the engine of change that caused the Meiji Restoration. In these mountains Buddhist monks had walked, banned from building monasteries in Kyoto, and watched as Emperors and Shoguns alike ruled a nation despite it not being one for so long. It had also nearly become one of the targets of the atomic bombs in 1945 until the then Secretary of War Henry Lewis Stimson ordered it on Hiroshima instead. Kenji however was blissfully unaware of this fact that this beautiful city that represented centuries of Japanese history, culture, and greatness from the Heian Period to today.

The woven bamboo sandals Kenji wore were quite comfortable as he clomped up a paved mountain path to the nearby jingu (Shinto shrine). When they reached the shrine their saw an old man dressed in priestly garb kneeling on the porch of the shrine with scrolls before him.

"Ohayo gozaimasu," greeted Kenji to the priest.

"Ohayo gozaimasu," said the old Shinto priest in a raspy tone and a small Kansai accent.

Over to the side there was a basin full of water which flowed from a bamboo pipe. Mai and Kenji both took a wooden ladle each and rinsed out their mouths (10). Then they washed their hands from the basin so they could approach the shrine with clean hands and mouths. Any other way would be considered improper or sinful by the Shintos.

Kenji walked over to the collection bin. He tossed in a 50-en cupronickel (copper-nickel composite) coin with chrysanthemums on one side, a large number 50 on the opposite side, and a round hole in the middle of the coin. Mai offered a 10-en coin, which was copper colored, had the image of the Hōōdō Buddhist Temple, and had no hole unlike the 50-en and 5-en coins. Kenji pulled at the rope which jingled the bells hanging above their heads. Together they clapped their hands three times together and prayed for their soon to be wedded friends and their future happiness.

Kenji noted that this shrine was to the deity of this mountain who apparently watched over the travelers that passed on their way into Kyoto from the north. Shintoism was not a very unified religion and had no core doctrine. There were over 8 million known Kami and most of them were obscure and very local. The closets equivalent the Shintos had to the Bible or Quran was the Kojiki, one of the oldest known text written in Japanese. It talked about the two kami that created the world and life, Mikoto no Izangai and Mikoto no Izanami (11). It also talked of the divinity of the other primary kami that were more nationally know and worshipped like Mikoto no Susanoo, the god of sea and storms, Omoikane, the goddess of wisdom, Sarutahiko Okami, god of the earth, Mikoto no Tsukuyomi, god of the moon, and the kami associated with the Japanese Imperial Family, Amaterasu-omikami, goddess of the sun. According to Shinto belief Amaterasu was born from Izanami's left eye, her brother Tsukuyomi from her right, and Amaterasu's other brother Susanoo was born from Izanami's nose.

'So after all this planning and hard work the day has finally come,' thought Kenji. This had been harder than some of the operations he had trained for in the armed forces, though that may have been because Kenji wasn't just a participant, but the man who planned them.

"I could never be an officer," groaned Kenji to himself reflecting that he'd never have the ability to do this daily. He had new respect for his bespectacled clumsy platoon leader and his vertically-challenged white hair company commander. Speaking of which Kenji saw his CO emerging from the path.

"Ohayo gozaimasu, Captain," said saluting his superior officer.

"Eh, oh, Harima. Ohayo," said Hitsugaya Tōshirō, commander of Company E of the 27th Infantry Battalion.

A young woman around the same age as Kenji was next to him and around his captain's height… which was height normal for Japanese women, but not for men. Her long shiny brown hair was wrapped into a bun and secure by an ornament. Kenji remembered her to be an officer in the Navy.

'Her name was… eto, eto… Himamori? Hitomori? … Hinamori, that was it,' thought Kenji triumphantly that he could remember the name of a person he'd hardly ever met. 'Now what was her given name? It was like some kind of fruit…'

"Ohayo gozaimasu, Harima-san," said the woman. "Watashi wa Hinamori Momo de gozaimasu (I am Momo Hinamori; formal). Dozo yoroshiku onegaishimasu (Please take care of me; very formal)."

A little too formal thought Kenji, but she seemed like the girl like Yakumo who used polite speech with everyone, accept with Tenma sometimes. He bowed as she did and said, "Harima Kenji desu. Dozo yoroshiku (Take care of me; less formal)."

There was a silence and he realized she was looking towards Mai politely. "Ah, kore wa boku no imoto desu. Mai-chan. (This is my little sister. Mai-chan)."

"Watashi wa Harima Mai de gozaimasu. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu," said Mai using more formal speech than Kenji because she was talking to someone several years older than herself.

"Ohayo," called out a friendly voice. It was Lt. Urashima Keitaro followed by a group of women, some of whom Kenji remembered from the dormitory the man ran. He recognized the little blue haired girl and the sword wielding one too. There was an older woman smoking a cigarette, despite wearing a kimono, who bore a resemblance to Keitaro, possibly a relative.

"Oha-," Kenji just started to speak when his platoon leader tripped over a rock and fell. As he did he grabbed the first thing he could which was the obi of a beautiful brunette's kimono which came loose and unraveled her homongi revealing her pink bra and matching panties. She clenched her fist and shrieked, "Chikan (pervert)!"

He was punched in the face and sent flying and crashed into a tree.

"Lieutenant!" cried Kenji running after his poor clumsy superior followed by a few other members of Kenji's squad who had arrived. Jupei Miho, Kurosaki Ichigo, and Kenji picked up their officer and laid him out.

"Well I'm impressed," said Ichigo. "No broken bones."

"I learned how to land," joked Keitaro. His soldiers smiled down at him. He inspired them and was probably the one of the most descent person they'd ever met. How could someone accuse him of being some kind of pervert?

Hiroyoshi walked arrived with Sarah in time to see his most of his squad present and glaring at someone.

"This is probably a stupid question, but did I miss something?" he asked dully. Of course he had. Hiroyoshi had always been one of the most levelheaded and most observant people in his high school class, only bested by Takano Akira. What he was really after was who was at fault and if he needed to take action.

"It's nothing Staff Sergeant," said Keitaro rising to his feet with Miho on one side and Kenji on the other. Ichigo was observing to see if anything was amiss, but nothing was wrong.

"Gomenasai, Naru," Keitaro apologized. He said to the woman who now looked thoroughly embarrassed. She said something to him and they walked off to the shrine interior. Most of the people with Keitaro however stayed outside. They weren't invited to watch the ceremony, but they would attend the after party with everyone else.

Little else happened. Ichigo entered the shrine with his friends Renji and Uryū. Yamako Ichiro along with his wife, Hiromi (12), proceeded in next. Kenji gave Ichiro a friendly smile because he'd been very helpful too in planning the wedding, and he was an old comrade.

"Ano, Kenji," said a voice from behind.

Kenji's eyes widened for a moment in surprise. Yakumo stood before him in a deep blue furisode. Her black hair which normally reached the small of her back was now tied beautifully into a knot secured by a thin ribbon with a light blue follow attached An red obi with the white outline of a cherry-blossom tree was wrapped above her waist to keep the kimono from unraveling. She wore makeup, probably applied by Eri considering the quality of the application. She looked beautiful and walked with a grace and elegance that seemed other-worldly.

Tenma was dressed in a bright red furisode secured by a yellow obi. The vibrancy of the colors seemed fitting to Kenji, they were as bright and lively as Tsukamoto Tenma. Her long her was allowed to cascade down to her waist with some kind of gold clip attached behind her neck to keep it under some control.

"Shall we?" he asked the three women… was two women and one teenage girl.

"Mm," grunted Tenma in agreement. Yakumo nodded silently, but with a smile of usual warmness. He wondered what had put her in such a good mood. Perhaps weddings just had this kind of effect on women, or so he thought.

Kenji sat on his knees in the way a good Japanese man, or woman as the case may be, sat in formal settings. He looked around. Everything was perfect. This was it. Everyone sat in silence. There was to be no talking.

Finally Suō Mikoto and Hanai Haruki entered. Mikoto was wearing a very brightly colored uchikake that was gold and had elaborate green dragons and white flowers upon it. The uchikake was a very formal kimono normally only worn by the bride at her own wedding. Unlike other kimonos, the bride did not wear an obi over it. The kimono was suppose to trail behind her and another kimono called a hiyoku, which was white, was underneath. Perched on her head was a bunkin takashimada (wedding headpiece) that was pure white to match hiyoku under the uchikake. Mikoto's blue hair was tied into a magnificent bun secured by a gold ornament. Her makeup was subtle but looked professionally done. She walked with her head slightly bowed down like a traditionally Japanese bride, but Tenma, Eri, and Akira knew it was because Mikoto was too nervous to make eye contact.

Haruki was dressed similar to Kenji in color and style. But with a more elaborate in design and with a few more things signifying him as the groom. Kenji also noticed he wasn't wearing his glasses. Kenji could tell his best friend was walking towards the alter arm in arm because Haruki couldn't see straight and probably would have crashed into some hapless person.

They sat before the priest who spoke about the two young adults before him. Haruki and Mikoto both lifted a cup of purified sake each slowly turned to each other and bowed gracefully. Next they drank from the cups which looked like a saucer to someone who wasn't familiar with the items.

Kenji watched at his best friend spoke words of love and devotion to Mikoto who was fighting back tears, or risk ruin her makeup. Like a bride in any culture she would fight to the death to keep any detail from ruin the day she dreamed of. Kenji warmly smiled while listening to the story of when the two were young and Haruki was a weak four-eyed nerd that was frequently bullied by those who laughed at the son of a dojo master who had to be rescued by a girl… who was of course Suō Mikoto. How she would always be there for him. He apologized for an 'extended time of ignorance in which he failed to acknowledged her as the woman for him' to which those who knew him in high school laughed including Mikoto who placed a hand in front of her mouth like a proper bride and fighting the urge to roll around on the floor. Yakumo turned a little red and looked down at her knees. Tenma and Kenji who sat on either side of Yakumo patted her on the head and whispered, "It wasn't your fault."

The others laughed too. Even though it was an inside joke they didn't understand the laughter was contagious. The full joy of this happy occasion seemed to come alive. The old priest smiled kindly. It had been a long time since he'd seen and heard such happy young folk in him presence. When the war had ended he had conduct on funeral after another. But today was a day of hope, happiness, and new beginnings.

The ceremony drew to a close and ended with an offering to the kami that reigned over this mountain. Everyone bowed low as Mikoto and Haruki handed their offering to the priest and then placed it upon the altar to the kami.

Two miko (shrine maiden) lead the procession out of the shrine in ceremonial garb. They were followed by Haruki, Mikoto, and Haruki's mother who was dressed in a kurotomesode, a kimono worn by the mothers of the bride and groom. Next came the priest holding a Japanese umbrella holding it above the bride and groom. He was followed by Haruki's father and Mikoto's parents. Next were the Harima and Tsukamoto families, basically Tenma, Yakumo, Kenji, and Mai. The rest of the procession march in straight lines about two to four people wide. By this time several people were waiting outside to caught sight and watch the procession pass by on their way back to the inn. Many pulled out digital cameras including Fuyuki Takeichi who clicking away. Some children cleared a path while others had to be grabbed and dragged out of the way by their mothers or elder siblings.

From his position in the wedding procession Kenji saw his best friend behind to descend the stairs, carefully guided by Mikoto since he really couldn't see. He looked so happy.

Yakumo looked on with some envy at Mikoto. Like any little girl Yakumo had dreamed of this day. When she got older and shier she wondered if this day would come. She smiled to herself. The question was no longer 'if', it was a matter of when. Yakumo no longer feared being alone, rejection, or losing Kenji to someone else. She looked at the sky with was deep blue with some fluffy white clouds drifting above. She wondered when her turn would finally come and she could spend her the rest of her life with the man she loved.

* * *

**2300 Hours (UTC -5); March 24****th****, 2012; Oval Office, White House; Washington DC, United States of America**

**Japanese Standard Time (UTC +9): 1200 Hours; March 25****th****, 2012**

President Crane sat behind her desk looking over the situation in Kosovo. The one battalion that was there was now in Albania, a NATO member. She could just screw the UN and charge in like many Republicans were screaming or wait for the UN to make their decision like the Democrats demanded. Her own party suggested she try and ask Russia to apply pressure on the Belgrade. The Yugoslavians did tend to listen to the requests from Moscow more than those from Washington or London. She decided to first see what the United Nations Security Council said since they would make a ruling before tomorrow morning. In the meantime she had called Moscow, but the Soviets weren't being helpful since they didn't recognize the Republic of Kosovo. If the UN gave her the green light she would order troops to Europe. If not then she would march to New York and whack the Security Council over the heads with the cane she was told she would be using for the rest of her life.

There was a knock at her door.

"Yes?"

Her White House Intelligence Chief from the CIA stuck his head in the door. "Sorry to bother you Michelle, but a man from south of the border has arrived to give you a final brief of the situation there."

"Send him in," she said putting down her papers. A young Asian male entered the room. He was about 6 feet, had black hair, and dark brown eyes.

"This is Mr. Shinhachi," said the CIA man. His visitors badge read 'Shinhachi, James'. The young man was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, black tie, black pants, and black shoes that were designed to make no noise. He was wearing a grey fedora hat that matched a trench coat he was removing. He looked timid… even meek. He avoided any but the briefest eye contact.

"M-madam President," he said quietly with a stutter, almost awkwardly.

"Don't mind the Gunny here," said her Intelligence Chief. "He's real shy around people. Get him started on business and he'll be fine."

He left the room.

'Gunny,' thought the President. "So you were a Marine?"

"Technically, I'm still," he said meeting her eyes briefly. He stood with his body facing her by his head was tilted down and to the side. His eyes were pointed down but would zoom to meet hers for a second or two when she spoke.

"What division?"

"… F-f-force Recon," he said hesitantly, denoting the special ops branch of the United States Marine Corps. United States Marine Corps Force Reconnaissance were a couple of companies attached to Marine Expeditionary Groups advance in front of the main group and provide intelligence or fight insurgents. They were some of the deadliest people in the military and some said they were amongst the craziest. Their motto was 'Celer, Silens, Mortalis' Latin for 'Swift, Silent, Deadly'.

'Well, he is definitely silent,' thought the US President.

"Which division were you attached to?" she asked.

"… y-you don't need-d to know… or, rather y-you don't want t-to," he said.

"Ah," she said understandably. 'Black ops.' "So on to business."

He looked up at that one statement and looked her full in the eyes for a good 10 seconds. "Y-yes, ma'am."

He pulled out a file from his bag, also black.

"Were the Mexican Government cooperative?" she asked.

"Very," he said with something that sounded like confidence. Without the stutter or the meekness he spoke in a monotone devoid of emotion, but something in his eyes hinted at something darker and more sinister that was at odds with something that was… human. This was not a simple man at all and he didn't look 25.

"The Federal Government have a strong invested interest with us, the United States of America," said James Daisuke Shinhachi. He was 22-year-old. He was officially a Master Gunnery Sergeant in the USMC, but was working for various intelligence agencies. His paychecks officially came from the Marine Corps, but the money was really coming from the National Security Agency (NSA), Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA), Marine Corps Intelligence Activity (MCIA), and the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI). He'd joined the Marines about the same time his cousin had joined the Army. Jamie was sent to Afghanistan near the Pakistan border where he and a small squad hunted the insurgency. Jamie was also sent into towns and villages by himself to locate and assassinate members of the Taliban. His career had taken him to Bosnia, Croatia, Serbia, Kosovo, Albania, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Armenia, China, Russia, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, Vietnam, Laos, India, Pakistan, Colombia, Panama, Nicaragua, Venezuela, and many more nations.

He'd spent most of his time in Chechnya, the Balkans, Eastern Europe, and East Asia. For the past four years he'd surrounded by violent radicals and he knew very well how they thought and how to deal with them… or eliminate them. Jamie however lacked the confidence to command. He merely carried out missions or provided advice to his superiors.

"So President Godoy made good on his promises?" asked President Crane. Jorge Antonio Godoy was the current President of the United Mexican States. He was a man with big dreams for his nation, but was plagued by lack of resources. "So, the op?"

"Nothing comes back to this nation," he said simply. "At worst the Mexican government will be blamed. I've made sure that little will go back to him. No loose ends, ma'am."

He pulled out a file and dumped several passports and driver's licenses on her desk. She noted that there was blood on a few of them. Most of the licenses were Mexican but a few were for California, two for Texas, and one for Panama. The passports were more varied.

"How many are fake?"

"The licenses are real except for one of the Texas licenses. Almost all of the passports are fake, but are proof of a mission completed," said Jamie. He did not add that she had ordered it. "These are most of heads of the Nieto Cartel and their vital lieutenants and captains. The rest are turning on each other in a power struggle to fill the void. By now the Policía Federal (Federal Police) special action squads are closing in on them."

"How many drugs will stop coming into the US?" she asked.

"About 10-percent from Mexico, but in the short term no dent and still lots of cocaine and heroin coming from Turkey, Colombia, China, and Afghanistan. In the long run this will give the Mexicans momentum they can ride," he said emotionlessly.

President Crane was disappointed. She had hoped this approach on the rapidly rising cartels in Mexico could be crushed. On the surface she seemed like a liberal president who wanted to avoid confrontation. Actually, Michelle Crane followed after the example of her idol, 34th US President Dwight David Eisenhower. Eisenhower who had commanded Allied forces to victory over Nazi Germany. When he was in office from 1953-1961 he'd poured funding into CIA and Strategic Command. He'd been the man who basically created Mutually Annihilation to keep peace with the Soviet Union and used intelligence to know what the Soviets were doing. He'd tried to lessen tension with his Soviet counterpart General-Secretary Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev by allowing Soviet and American spy planes to monitor each other's missile silos but the paranoid Russian rejected it. Eisenhower acted like a bubble head, but was probably one of the smartest presidents in US history. His 'Hidden Hand' presidency was an example she followed.

He seemed to deflate and was no longer making eye contact. He looked harmless. He looked like someone who had been an outcast in high school and picked on a lot. She looked at her desk and saw the dark brown spots of dried blood on a fake Swiss passport. The US President knew he must of done this but didn't ask.

"I-I, must b-be off. Good e-vening M-madan President-t," he stuttered.

"Good evening, Gunnery Sergeant."

She picked up her phone. She locked away the report Shinhachi had left in a safe on top of a file on CIA operations in Iran. Briefly President Crane pulled out the file on the situation in Kosovo. By now the capital was under siege. The American Embassy was abandoned and the single battalion stationed in the Balkans had withdrawn to Albania.

She picked up a red phone labeled 'Pentagon'.

"General?" she said the moment someone picked up.

"Yes, ma'am," answered General Peter Pace, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

"You are authorized to prepared to consolidate active duty units."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll have the 101st Airborne and the 1st Infantry to standby."

Meanwhile, Jamie Shinhachi stepped out of a government car in front of a condo in Alexandria, Virginia, right across the river from Washington. He went into the elevator and exited on the 12 floor. He opened the door to his parent's condo. Naturally no one was here. His father was in London on business with the Treasury Department and his mother was in Brussels for the State Department. He younger sister could have been anywhere.

He sat down in front of a widescreen TV and turned it on. Jamie watched NCIS, a favorite show of his. He liked Mark Harmon's character, ex-marine Leroy Jethro Gibbs. His character had been a sniper like Jamie, but the personalities couldn't have been more different.

Vaguely he wondered where Celia, his younger sister, was. He shrugged it off. She was 19 and in George Washington University. She was probably out with her friends.

He had until 0700 hours to report to Suitland, Maryland, where the MCIA had a major office with the ONI. The other main office for the MCIA was in Quantico, Virginia home to the Marine Corps Officer Academy. Jamie had worked for the MCIA based out of Washington for four years and was up for reassignment. Someone had requested his transfer. Jamie didn't know where he was going for another six and a half hours.

* * *

**1900 Hours (UTC +9); March 25****th****, 2012; Natsuyami Inn, Kyoto; Kyoto Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

**United States Eastern Standard Time (UTC -5): 0800 Hours; March 25****th****, 2012**

Kenji was coming close to total exhaustion. He given a brief somewhat clumsy speech and then sat down. He was sitting outside for a break from it all.

Yakumo was inside. She was a little overwhelmed by the crowd. She wondered where her boyfriend had gotten to.

"He's outside on the rear deck, ground floor," said Yakumo former sempai, Akira.

"Ah… domo, Takino-sempai," said Yakumo. She would never get use to Akira's ability to seemingly read people's minds.

Unsurprisingly, Akira was correct. Kenji was there with his back to her staring at the moon.

Kenji was lost in thought. The moon reminded him of Yakumo… or maybe it was because by pure coincidence there were eight clouds drifting across the sky and illuminated by the moon.

"Ano…"

Kenji knew that voice and the nervous hesitation that came with it.

"Konban Yakumo," he said looking at her. Was this a sign? Kenji wasn't sure if he believed in fate, but this may be his only chance. "Yakumo… you remember when first met?"

Kenji kicked himself. 'Was there a more cliché line I could use?'

"Hai. You came to fix the air conditioning and helped my cat," she said simply. He had been different from any other man. He was just simply not interested in her and paradoxically that had what first triggered her attraction to him.

"Ee," he said. 'Where am I going with this?' "We've been quite a team for past few years. And… um…"

Yakumo sat next to him and looked at him politely.

He reached inside his haori. A cloud drifted in front of the moon and in the sudden lack of light Yakumo couldn't see. Before her eyes adjusted the cloud had past and the moon was shining down on them again. But this time something in Kenji's had was reflect the light back.

"I would like us to stay a team… forever," he added.

Yakumo's mouth was hanging open slightly. She had expected this but not so soon.

"Will you marry me?" he asked almost pleadingly.

She was shaking a little now and tears were appearing in her eyes. Her smile was bright and wide. She couldn't speak, but nodded. She raised her hand and extended her ring finger. He slowly he placed the ring on her finger and gently he slid it as far as it would go.

* * *

Sorry it took so long to write this chapter but I had a busy summer and now I'm back at school. I'll write when I can and post as soon as possible but please be patient.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. Captain First Class is a rank in the Yugoslav People's Army above Captain and below Major. I'm not really sure it's specific function in the JNA, but I guess it is similar to company or battalion officer in most militaries.

2. Lieutenant Colonel-General is a rank unique to the JNA and still used in the Croatian Army. It is the equivalent of a Lieutenant General in the Red Army, which is roughly equal to a NATO Lieutenant General. I believe that it is a corps commander.

3. Remember that Japanese is largely a contextual language where the sentences don't always have subjects. Do not take my translations as literal because in different context they may have very different meanings. Also the translations aren't literal because they won't make as much sense. Fansubbers do the same thing.

4. NHK (Nippon Hōsō Kyōkai; Japan Broadcasting Corporation) is a major media company in Japan. It is similar to the British Broadcasting Company (BBC) in that it covers all areas of media including print, radio, and TV. This include newspapers, news broadcasts, anime, TV dramas, game shows, sitcoms, magazines, documentaries, educational shows, sports, children's programs, cooking shows, exercise shows, weather reports, government emergency warnings, etc. They own two terrestrial TV services, three satellite TV services, and three radio networks. There is an NHK World for international broadcasts and are available in English. You can go to their English site for broadcasts and clips.

5. In case you forgot, the name Yakumo comprises of the Kanji characters 'Ya' (Eight) and 'Kumo' (Cloud).

6. Panzerjager mean tank hunter. The Germans refer to their tank destroyers as panzejager or a jagdpanzer (hunting tank).

7. Tommy is a nickname for the British that the Germans use. Sometimes used by the Americans, but most Americans call them Brits, or limeys.

8. Zeiss is a real company in Germany that made scopes and binoculars for the Wehrmacht during World War II. They still make optical equipment for the Bundeswehr today and non-military purposes. For instance my digital camera uses a Zeiss lens.

9. The Pistolet-Pulemyot Shpagina 1941, or PPSh-41, was standard issue sub-machine gun to the Red Army during World War II. It fires 7.62x25 mm rounds from either a 35-round box magazine (similar to a banana clip used on assault rifles) or a 71-round drum magazine. It was a cheap weapon and over 6 million were made by the Spring 1945 when the war ended. Literally enough to equip entire regiments (which did happen in cases) with this gun alone. In rare cases entire divisions only had the Pah-Pah-Sha, another nickname used by Westerns. It was based off a Finnish gun, the M31 Suomi. Red Army soldiers would usually carry one or two drum mags and then a bunch of box clips since the drums were too bulky to carry in mass. The Russian nickname was the Shpagin after its designer Georgi Semyonovich Shpagin.

10. This is traditional when visiting a Shinto shrine, but do not drink with the ladle, do not swallow the water, and pleased DO NOT spit the water back into the basin. You are supposed to spit it out, but not back into the basin where people will wash their mouths out too.

11. In the really old days of Japan a family name would have 'no' which is the Japanese partical of possession like of or 's.

12. In case you don't remember Hiromi was a character briefly appears in chapter 26 of the previous story when the member of 5th squad are making calls home.


	12. Chapter 12: A Call to Arms Again

Another chapter up and ready. I thought this would take a month but this is up a lot faster than I had expected.

Not much going on. Getting use to school again. It's also getting pretty cold up here.

I don't know if any of ya'll have heard of Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei, often translated as Good-bye Mr. Despair. Manga is just starting to be released in the US and no word if an English dubbed anime is coming yet. But if you're like me go to youtube for the fansubs. The main character is Itoshiki Nozomu who is depressed and suicidal and a high school teacher. He frequently makes attempts to kill himself (half are at least not serious). In sharp contrast the main female protagonist is Fuura Kafuka, a super-positive girl that almost seems in denial. Their first meeting she sees Nozomu hanging from a tree and she pulled him down (literally and almost killing). She says no one would hang themselves on a day like this he must have been trying to make himself taller like her parents. There are other characters like Komori Kiri a Hikikomori, Tsunetsuki Matoi the stalker, and Kitsu Chiri the OCD girl. Each character has a different psychological issue and as a gag their names actually spell it out. For instance the Kanji characters in Itoshiki Nozomu when written horizontally in Japanese order spell Zetsubou (Despair) where the anime get its name. Tsunetsuki Matoi's name spells tsune tsukimatoi which means 'always dangling after.' The show is intended to be a satire mocking modern Japan and its society. Don't watch this show if you know little to nothing about Japan because you won't get the jokes.

Also if you haven't heard the new season for the Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is being released.

I also watched the movie Taken starring Liam Neeson. It's about a retired CIA agent whose daughter is kidnapped by an Albanian human-trafficking ring in Paris and Neeson's character Bryan Mills hunting down the Albanians. Its plot was good, but maybe not the best. The fighting was very realistic. Unlike in the Bourne movies (which I love) where there are long and slightly elaborate fight scenes, Taken's fighting scenes are very brief. A one-on-one fight lasts only a few seconds. A real agent would want to kill in as few moves as possible to efficiency. I would recommend this movie to get a good feel of what a real field agent would be like. Though keep in mind that most spies sit behind desks and only a few would do this. Also most agents would avoid killing people, especially foreign spies. That is where my own story is inaccurate. Real spies rarely kill each other because of mutual rules between the United States, our allies, the Soviet Union (still honored by the Russian Federation), but terrorists and criminals are not protected by these rules.

* * *

**Chapter 12: A Call to Arms Again**

"The military don't start wars. Politicians start wars."

General William Child Westmoreland

Commander of US Forces in Vietnam from 1964-1968

**0800 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012; The Kantei, Tokyo; Tokyo Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Prime Minister Aokami Shin wished the Diet would just give a vote of no confidence and kick him out of office. Why did he have to make the hardest decisions in Japanese history since the Federation was formed after the Pacific War? But alas, he would probably stay until the next election next year. The Shūgiin (House of Representatives), the lower house of the Japanese Diet, election would be in 2013. Officially both the House of Representatives and the House of Councillors (Sangiin), the upper house of the Japanese Diet, had to agree on a Prime Minister. If neither house agreed then the person the House of Representatives selected would be Prime Minister. The House of Representatives also were the ones who had the power to vote him out of office. The war had made him popular like going to war with the Continent (1) or invading a country that his nation had invaded three times before, which apparently shot up his approval ratings despite him personally being against it. Strangely the fourth invasion of Korea, namely the attack across the DMZ, had actually made Japan popular by their friends on the peninsula, South Korea. In fact some people in the Kaesŏng Province, that Japan and South Korea had liberated, were giving their children Japanese names. In roughly 400 years of Japanese-Korean relations first what seemed the first time the two nations were friends.

Or at least Japan wasn't saying things that offended and upset the Republic of Korea and the RoK seemed to have forgiven Japan at last for their brutal occupation in the early 20th Century.

"So now we have to repay NATO for their commitment to our nation," he said to himself. The Kosovar capital was expected to fall in the next few hours and now Albania was getting threatening messages from Yugoslavia. The Hellenic (Greek) Air Force reported that one of their Pegasus II UVA (Unmanned Arial Vehicle) a regiment of Croatian tanks appearing in Socialist Republic of Macedonia, member of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. US Navy recon satellites had reported a Soviet motor-rifle division was training in Romania which shared a border with Greece and Turkey, but they were staying in the north of the country near the Ukraine. The small Soviet Navy Black Sea Squadron was conducting training drills, but they were staying close to their ports in Ukraine. Insofar the Soviets were keeping a distance. Increased readiness in the Red Army was making everyone nervous. Entire air wings of the Soviet Air Force were down for maintenance and much of the Soviet Navy's ships were going in for major unscheduled maintenance.

However, Prime Minister Aokami knew this wasn't the Soviets' fault entirely. His own intelligence community informed him that the Soviet Armed Forces started about 18 hours after the US had recalled several of their ships in the Atlantic to Norfolk for repairs, resupply, and minor to moderate overhauls. In Little Creek, the USMC/USN base next to Norfolk where the amphibious assault ships and other ships for amphibious landings were kept, were going into unscheduled maintenance. This was usually a sign of a nation preparing to go to war. A sign that said the US was planning to move large numbers of troops across the ocean with making sure their transports were at peak condition. Recalling warships, especially carriers, said they wanted to move something important. Americans never put important ships to sea without aircraft carriers for protection.

'What about the boomers?' he wondered. There was few report on where the US or Soviet ballistic missile submarines were, the ones that would fire nuclear missiles. One American boomer was in its homeport in Kings Bay, Georgia, US Navy Atlantic base for their missile boats. A Soviet Delta IV and a very old Yankee Class missile boats were both spotted at the Severomorsk Naval Yard, home to the Northern Red Banner Fleet's HQ.

Aokami pressed a button on his desk. He heard his phone ring and then someone pick up on their end.

"Hai?"

"Director, do we know where all Soviet and American boomers are?" asked the Prime Minister.

"Ie, sir," said the Director of the Naicho. "We know where most of the Soviet missile boats in their Pacific Squadron are, of course. We know the locations of some of the American Pacific Fleet's boats, but only the ones near our coast. Unfortunately we have little information on the locations of the American Atlantic or Mediterranean Fleets or the Soviet Northern Fleet. I also cannot say where the British or French missile boats are except those in port."

"Arigato. Keep an eye on them and also keep me informed on future developments."

He hung up. The 2nd Fleet was recalled from its exercises north of Guam back to Sasebo. The amphibious assault ships in Kure were being ready for sortie. Kure was home to a major ship building yard. These too were being inspected by the Navy like in the US, but most of the Japanese amphibious ships were so new that many didn't need maintenance. The Army would call their soldiers to report to their bases as soon as the Navy had the transports ready. The 3rd Air Group of the 2nd Air Wing was being called to their bases and to have their planes ready for combat. Some soldiers, sailors, and airmen were still on leave or in units that weren't recalled to active service. Aokami couldn't reactive them without approval from the Diet. In the United States the Senate would make the decision to go to war and the President had to sign off on it. In Japan the House of Representatives would make the decision, but the House of Councilors had to ratify it before it went to the Prime Minister. Right now there was no motion from NATO to go to war. Well, NATO couldn't decide to go to war the individual nations had to choose for themselves but they did have an obligation.

The US President wanted full readiness to deploy to the Balkans. The United Kingdom was still trying to negotiate a peaceful outcome with the people in Belgrade, but someone, probably the Soviets, told them that British were preparing their own troops. Germany sent them a simple message, leave Kosovo or else. Being the largest economy in Europe, Germany didn't have to use their military to threaten. An embargo from Germany could cut off a nation from important high quality pharmaceuticals, some of the best made cars in the world, and fine German machinery. Belgium, France, Spain, Italy, Denmark, and other NATO members protested this assault on a fellow member of the European Union. Albania was screaming for war.

Japan on the other hand said little. The Emperor had publicly condemned that attack on what he called an independent and sovereign nation. Following his example the Japanese had protested the invasion in front of the Serbian Embassy and the embassies of Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Slovenia, Macedonia, and Montenegro. Still it was nothing compared to the ones in North America or Europe. The Diet had not addressed the issue a formal statement and the Minister of Foreign Affairs has only vaguely mentioned it. That would change soon. On his desk was a declaration of war against Yugoslavia. It was signed by the members of both houses of the Diet, the Foreign Minister, and the Defense Minister. Only his signature was missing to make it final. Then he had to take it to the Emperor, technically it was only a formality to take it to Akihito-Tennō, but for the Japanese people tended to trust their Emperor more than their elected government.

* * *

**0800 Hours (UCT +1); March 26****th****, 2012; Justus Lipsius Building, Brussels; Brussels-Capital Region, Kingdom of Belgium**

**Japanese Standard Time (UCT +9): 1600 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012**

"My word. The Yugoslavians don't seem to be reasoning with my countrymen," said a representative from United Kingdom.

"Russia warns us against military action," said a French representative.

The Kosovar representative to the European Council watched nervously as far more powerful men and women. He noticed that Scandinavian leaders were absent. So was the Irish representative. Only EU countries that were in NATO were present today.

"Of course the Soviets object. Yugoslavia is their protectorate against Westen troope (Western troops)," stated the German representative in broken English.

"My nation's armed forces are waiting at the border for the Yukes. For now we are accepting Kosovar refugees, but we expect their army to want to retreat into our lands," said the Albanian representative. There was a pause while his statement was translated.

"Belgrade may see that as compliance with their enemy. You nation could be attacked as a result," said the British representative. He wanted to also add that the Albanian Armed Forces lacked an air force and the ground forces had outdated guns.

"Our leaders will not abandon our brothers and sisters to be murdered," stated the Albanian man stubbornly. Most Kosovar were ethnically Albanian. The Balkans was closely divided by ethnicity. Serbians had gone to war for other Serbs living in Bosnia and Croatia. So had the Croatian. Albania would have launched a counter-invasion that first day of the Yugoslavian attack if the US hadn't intervened. The United States managed to get Albania, a former enemy, to listen to them in a way the EU had never could. It was because the Americans had made Kosovo independent and fought Albanians old enemy Serbia that Albanians trusted and loved the US. Also the American President reminded them that they didn't have the firepower to actually take on the JNA.

"The Americans recalled that carrier from the North Sea. The Lincoln, I believe," said the Dutch representative.

"Ja. I believe the British have recalled their carrier Queen Elizabeth from the mid-Atlantic," stated the German representative. The Englishman frowned at the accusation.

"My President is very worried about increased activity on our borders. We see increased numbers of Macedonian troops, but what worries us more is the sudden appearance of Croatian and Serbian troops. Their only conducting drills, but we don't like it so close to our northern border," said the Greek representative.

"I'm sure it is comforting to you and your Albanian neighbors that the Americans had placed a carrier in the Ionian Sea," said the Italian representative. The USS Enterprise and her escorts had pass through the Tyrrhenian Sea where it was to conduct drills with the Italian Navy. To the surprise of the Italian sailors it had sailed past Sicily, southern Italy, and was now apparently conducting drills off the coast of Greece. But within roughly two and a half hours it could be in the north end of the Strait of Otranto where they could over all of Albania and threaten JNA forces. Italy had placed their light carrier, the Giuseppe Garibaldi, around the Enterprise. The original plan had been the Giuseppe Garibaldi would practice anti-submarine drills, which was her primary role, while the Americans conducted air supremacy and anti-ship drills. Both carriers had the mission of protecting a convoy bringing vital war supplies from North American to Europe, or that was the simulation. Now the real mission was to show off a little and show Yugoslavia that NATO disapproved and had force in the area.

"So what do we do about Kosovo?" asked the Dutchman.

"For now, diplomacy sounds best. It's what we do best," said the Englishman. The Greek representative paled a little, the Albanian snorted, and the Kosovar looked on in disappear.

"Though, my tolerance is wearing thin at the moment," said continued the British representative. "We'll prepare are troops for now and give Belgrade time to come to their senses. Failing that, then we take the Yank approach and kick their bloody arses out Kosovo."

"Then, I can tell President Zharku there will be an armed response from our allies?" asked the Kosovar representative.

"Ja. The diplomacy is only formality to by time und keep them out of Albania," said the German representative.

No one had to add that they were also waiting to hear from the UN. If the United Nations recognized Kosovo's right to sovereignty then Yugoslavia would have to withdraw or face a NATO attack. If the UN did not recognize Kosovo then NATO would not be facing Yugoslavia. It would be facing Yugoslavia the protectorate of the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic. Facing roughly 700,000 active duty soldiers of the Yugoslav People's Army, plus the possibility of another 400,000 reservists, was bad enough. NATO did not need the threat of millions of Soviet troops stationed across over 20 socialist republics that made up the USSR. No, the European Union wanted this to stay a matter of an EU state having its sovereignty violated and not turn the Cold War into World War III.

* * *

**1100 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012 (UTC -4); United Nations Building, New York City; State of New York, United States of America**

**Central European Standard Time (UTC +1): 1600 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012**

Michelle Smith Crane sat on a bench outside the Security Council's assembly hall twirling her cane between her legs. Standing next to her was her primary agent, Felix Gallo. He was dressed like any Secret Service agent, black pants, black shoes, black socks, white shirt, black tie, black jacket, tinted sunglasses, and an earwig. It left no one in question as to who he was. Some might have thought this was too obvious… and they would be right however there were five more agents in plain clothes.

Gallo looked to his left to see a janitor mopping the floor. Inside the janitor's coveralls was a SIG Sauer P-229, a compact version of the P-226. The iPod he was listening to was actually a receiver and he had a mic in collar. The repairman fixing a light fixture every now and then looked around him casually. He scratched his nose indicating no danger. A man and a woman dressed as members of the press were talking loudly. They used certain phrases that sounded like normal chatter, but told Gallo things they were observing. The last one was not present. He was standing around the corner as backup looking like an intern.

The Security Council exited the room. The Council consisted of members from Western Europe, Eastern Europe, Africa, Asia, and Latin America. They were from Ireland, Romania, Egypt, Vietnam, and Venezuela respectfully. Oceania was grouped with Asia and North America with West Europe (2). Next went the stoic Soviet member. Then came the Chinese member, one of the few Chinese citizens allowed in the US. France, UK, and then the US members.

"Madam President," said US Ambassador to the UN approaching her President.

"What's the damage?" the President asked.

"The Soviets voted against us naturally. China was in no mood to help us," said the Ambassador. "Ireland voted yes. Romania against."

Neither was a surprise. China did not recognize Kosovo as a nation and did not want to help the United States unless the embargo was lifted on their nation first. Romania was part of the Soviet Union and the Soviets did not recognized Kosovo and supported their Yugoslavian allies.

"Egypt abstained from voting," said the Ambassador. That was a surprise. Egypt didn't recognize Kosovar independence. Though, Egypt preferred to be neutral. Also they depended a lot on foreigners using the Suez Canal and paying a toll for access. Perhaps they wanted to ensure they maintained stable relations with both sides.

"So that's four votes for us," said the President counting the US, UK, France, and Ireland. "And four against us."

President Crane assumed that anti-American leader Hugo Chavez, President of Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela, would follow his long tradition of voting against anything the US supported. Also that Thang Binh Nguyen, President of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, would probably order their ambassador to side with their communist allies.

"Actually, the Vietnamese in favor of Kosovo," said the Ambassador. "Five to three, us."

The Vietnamese ambassador passed them at the moment. He was a small Asian man, though darker than his Chinese counterpart. He brushed past the American Ambassador and hit her hand. In that moment he jammed a piece of paper in her hand and continued walking as if nothing happened.

The Ambassador looked down in surprise and examined the folded note paper. She read, "He hope America will be a friend to us. We will contact your President. Burn this note."

Now she understood. Vietnam was an ally of the Soviets and the Chinese out of convenience. The man who led Vietnamese independence from France, Ho Chi Minh, actually had asked for American support. Their declaration of independence from France was nearly a carbon copy of the United States Declaration of Independence. Vietnam's government was deeply suspicious of the Soviets and both the people and government of Vietnam hated China. In 207 BC the Nanyue Dynasty conquered Vietnam. In 111 BC the Han Dynasty conquered Nanyue and Vietnam was brought into the Han. For about the next 1000 years Vietnam was mostly under Chinese control. Comparatively, the US was only involved in Vietnam from the mid-1950s to 1972.

"So Vietnam wants what?" asked the President.

"The veil of protection of being a friend of the United States," said the Ambassador. "And they don't want this being known."

The Soviet Ambassador was furious, but he didn't show it. He had expected the Vietnamese to support the Soviet Union in not recognizing Kosovo as a legitimate nation. Egypt had also surprised him. They will pay. The Soviet Union did not look upon traitors kindly. The Minister of Foreign Affairs would probably cut off weapons exports to those nations that depended on Soviet made weapons for their militaries. Finished goods, machinery, cars, planes, raw materials, and others would also be cut off.

The Chinese Ambassador sighed as he reached his car. His driver opened the door for him. He personally had thought it would have been better to earn good face with the Americans like Vietnam had done. He knew the Vietnamese had a major infrastructure projects being aided by companies in the United States and Japan. They did not need American and their Japanese lap dogs to abandon them in a multi-million dollar project. Also, Vietnam was no friend of China. They had gone to war against each other in 1979. The Politburo was going to be angry.

The British Ambassador smiled smugly. The American had been very persuasive. The Soviets had challenged her on the legitimacy being rightfully part of Serbia.

"_That is true Mr. Ambassador, but that didn't stop my countrymen. Let me remind all of us that the United States broke away from Great Britain. I don't see anyone challenging our sovereignty. We in the United States have always believed that if government does not treat us with reasonable rights that all men and women are entitled to, than the people have a right to destroy that government. Mr. Ambassador, did your countrymen not do that in 1917? Ousting the Czar, remember? Kosovo has only declared independence from a nation that abused and terrorized its people with violence, death, and even rape. Is there a person here who believes that Kosovo seceded on a mere whim? No, like many of our ancestors they chose to risk their lives in the self interest of a better life after very hard thought. Ambassadors, there 2.3 million people whose tomorrow will be decided by eight people without any of them here to speak. Can you tell them that we don't recognize them after what our nations have done to be what we are today? Perhaps you will, but I won't lose sleep at night being a hypocrite."_

The American Ambassador was a powerful speaker, maybe too rash though, but she had probably expected the Soviets wouldn't be impressed no matter what she said. Her passion had touched the Vietnamese Ambassador considerably. It had convinced the Egyptian Ambassador to at least not vote against Kosovo. It had impressed the Venezuelan Ambassador, but he was under strict orders to oppose the Americans. Soviet wasn't impressed and only saw American ulterior motives that involved weakening Yugoslavia and an important part of Soviet national defense.

"Sir," nodded the British Ambassador's driver.

"To the consulate, dear boy," said the Ambassador. "I have to make an urgent call to London."

"Very good, sir."

He could have used a cell phone, but those things could easily be tapped. He preferred to use the secure line in the British Consulate.

* * *

**1623 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012 (GMT); Number 10 Downing Street, London; England, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland**

**United States Eastern Standard Time (UTC -4): 1223 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012**

Number 10 Downing Street is the home and office of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. It also housed the First Lord of the Treasury, who was usually the same person as the Prime Minister. It had started with the British deciding that a committee should oversee the treasury in the early 18th Century. It seemed natural at a point that this person was in charge of all the ministers and thus came the title Prime Minister, but it was not used in a pleasant way. In 1905 the title Prime Minister was made the official as the head of the government, while the Crown remained the official head of state.

Prime Minister Donald Hackett would have liked nothing more than to call it a day and have a drink, but he was still waiting for news from New York.

"For god's sake, ring," said the tired man.

It rang. Prime Minister Hackett was so surprised he nearly fell out of his chair.

"Hello?"

"Right Honorable (3), good evening."

"How are things on that side of the pond (4)?"

"It's a go. Looks like the Yanks are getting their Marines and Army ready to set sail. Do our neighbors know yet? Aside from France?"

"I give them a ring. Bloody good work over there."

The Prime Minister hung up. Hackett picked up his phone and dialed.

* * *

**1732 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012 (UCT +1); Bundeskanzleramt, Berlin; Berlin Staat, Bundesrepublik Deutschland**

**Western European Standard Time (GMT): 1632 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012**

The Bundskanzleramt, roughly translating as Chancellor's Office, was located in Berlin. Anne Strömvall stared out of her office window. This was a pretty new building replacing the previous one, but she had some of the old relics from the original Reichskanzlei, the Imperial Chancellery. The most prized treasure was an original oil painting of Otto von Bismarck, Germany's greatest national hero… or at least to the people of Brandenburg and the other states that had made up the mighty Kingdom of Prussia. Bavaria remembered him a little less fondly. Next to Bismarck was a painting of other sources of national pride like Sigmund Freud, even though he was Austrian, Albert Einstein, Ludwig van Beethoven, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Erwin Rommel, and the founder of the Federal Republic, Bernhard Ernst Schumacher.

Strömvall was staring eastward. Towards Poland. There were many regiments forming a crescent around Berlin. They were roughly 80 km from the Oder River that marked the German-Polish border. She wondered if the six divisions the Red Army had in Poland would try to cross the Oder and Neisse Rivers when the Bunderwehr deployed to the Balkans. According to her Minister of Defense the regiments that protected Berlin could be mobilized in under 10 minutes, which was pretty impressive for a whole brigade.

Her phone rang.

"Hallo (Hello)?"

"Ms. Chancellor, this is Prime Minister Hackett," said the British Prime Minister spoke in English.

"Ah, Herr Prime Minister, news from New York?" she asked waiting for the bomb to drop.

"We're going. Council approved and we can send troops to Kosovo without fear of Soviet intervention."

"Gute (good), but I would not be so sure. The Soviets being so near to my capital we cannot afford to be careless. You nation is welcome to use our air bases, but mein generale (my generals) would like warning before hand so we can accommodate them all."

"Of course."

* * *

**0130 Hours; March 27****th****, 2012 (UCT +9); The Kantei, Tokyo; Tokyo Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

**Central European Standard Time (UCT +1): 1630 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012**

Prime Minister Aokami was about as happy to be woken up at this hour as his wife, who rolled over in bed and buried herself under a pillow to dampen out the noise.

"Nani?" he asked a little more aggressively than he intended.

"Eto," squeaked the young man before him. "Urgent phone call, Sōridaijin."

"Donata (who)?"

"Your general in Brussels," he said sweating.

"… kamatte naa (5)," he cursed. He grabbed his robe and dashed down the hall after the night-duty secretary. "When did he call?"

"Only a couple of minutes ago. He told me to wake you. It's only 4 in the afternoon there."

"Ee, I have been waiting to hear from him."

They reached the phone and the secretary passed it to him.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Prime Minister? Nakasone. NATO has authorization from the United Nations Security Council to removed Yugoslavian troops from Kosovo. The Soviet Union can't intervene. There is a condition though. We have to give Yugoslavia 72 hours to withdraw starting midnight March 27th, GMT," said Brigadier General Nakasone Taro.

"Wakaru (I understand)," said Aokami. "Arigato."

"Shitsuree-shimasu (excuse me). Gomen-kudasai," said Nakasone hanging up.

Aokami dialed for the Ministry of Defense. Someone had to be awake.

"Moshi moshi, Colonel Meishima, Federal Army," said the watch officer on duty. His job was to keep an eye on Ministry of Defense for the Federal Army. There was another colonel for the Federal Air Force and captain for the Federal Navy all there to wake up every chief and senior officer in Japan in the event of an emergency.

"Colonel, this is your Prime Minister," said Aokami in an official voice.

"… honto (really)?" asked the Colonel a little surprised. He'd never thought someone this important would call him. It was suppose to be the other way around.

"Honto da yo (really, I assure you)," he said. "Where is General Kugashi?"

"At home I would assume. Should I wake him?" asked Colonel Meishima. He'd knew the protocol, but never actually had to disturb an officer higher than Major General.

"Hai. Do it now. Tell them to assemble here at the Kantei. I want to Navy and Air Force here too."

"Hai, Prime Minister."

Colonel Meishima hung up a little stunned.

"Problem?" asked Captain Shudo, Federal Navy. She was playing cards with Colonel Nakao, Air Force, to kill time until they were relieved in the morning.

"That was the Prime Minister. He wants the entire brass in his office, now."

"Honto?"

"Hai."

Half an hour later over 20 senior officers of the Federal Armed Forces were on their way to the Kantei. General Kobayashi Jin, Chief of Staff, arrived first. Admiral Mizuryū Chidori, Chief of the Federal Navy, arrived next; her hair was not in its usual knot and hung at odd angles. General Kugashi Toshi, Chief of the Federal Army, arrived. He was missing both his peaked cap and was not wearing a tie. General Takahashi Mondo, Chief of the Federal Air Force, was wearing his entire uniform, but his tunic was not button and his shirt wasn't tucked into his trousers.

The commanders of logistics, artillery, medical service, transportation, communications, training, ground combat, and other army branches arrive. The Navy's commanders of logistics, fleet logistics, anti-submarine warfare, submarine warfare, surface action, communications, marines, naval air, intelligence, and naval medical arrived too. Amongst them were the Air Force logistics, transport, medical, intelligence, air combat, air defense, ground attack combat, electronics, and reconnaissance. It was crowded.

"I apologize for waking you at this hour. Many of you probably have guessed at the reason for being here. It's now 3:05 am. It's 6:05 pm GMT. On midnight 30 March GMT we will be at war with the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Belgrade has until then to recall their armed forces back to recognized Yugoslavian borders. Failing that, we go to Europe. Ladies and gentlemen, what are we going to do?" asked Aokami.

"We'll send a squadron from the 2nd Fleet," said Admiral Mizuryū. "It would be pointless to send the entire fleet to Europe where they'll be sharing the waters with multiple navies."

"It's Europe. Most of NATO is there. Probably by the time we arrive it will be over. I think we should only send a division over," said General Kugashi.

"Hardly any air power will be needed," said General Takahashi. He had images of planes colliding with each other in overcrowded skies. At least he would send his own fighter-bombers and AWACS to Europe and a squadron of fighters. He expected the other NATO nations would provide most of the air support, but he thought the Army would like air support from people who literally spoke the same language as them.

"Will our soldiers have the right equipment?"

"Hai. Will send our soldiers in summer uniforms. Balkans is hot during the summer because of their proximity Mediterranean," said the Army logistics commander.

"Terrain?"

"Lots of woods have been cut down over the centuries. Lots of mountains. Not a lot of farms due to poor soil conditions and mountains, but the valleys are full of them. Not a lot of plains. Rivers that flow fast. But the main concern will be the mountains," said an Air Force reconnaissance commander. Japanese soldiers were no strangers to mountains since Japan was full of them. The question was would they adapt to the ones in the Balkans.

"We are going to be taking our military to the other side of the world. It would take a month to get reinforcements to the Balkans. Are you comfortable to sending only one division with the notion that if they are exhausted that no relief will come for a month? That if our ships take damage that no one can take their place?" Aokami.

Admiral Mizuryū thought that one over. "I'll send the whole 2nd Fleet. But the 1st and 3rd will remain in home waters. I can also send the 1st Marine Division."

"I was only planning to send the 6th Infantry, but I'll send the 10th too. They can sit in reserve and relieve 6th if they tire out," said General Kugashi.

"I'll send the 3rd Air Group. But I can't send much more. I've had time to think about this," said General Takahashi. "Even if we take over civilian airports to land our planes I have to account for much larger air forces than ours like the RAF or the USAF. They're going to rely on their planes to resupply their troops more than us."

"Wakarimasu (I understand)," said Aokami.

"I may be overkill, sir," said General Kobayashi.

"I may be, but better safe than sorry. When can we mobilize?"

"… maybe by April 7th. One of the 2nd Fleet's carriers is in need of repair. The Marines will need to assemble and then we'll have to supply them. I only assemble transports for one division. Then I'll need additional oilers and tenders (6) to move a whole fleet out," said Admiral Mizuryū.

"I don't have the supplies ready for the 6th Infantry," said General Kugashi shaking his head. He'd thought he would have more time than this and had instead concentrated on training new soldiers. Training had taken longer with these soldiers since the Japanese wanted these soldiers better trained than the previous group that had been slapped together by a panicked Japanese government fearing imminent attack from China. "It might take me a week to get all ready if I drop everything else. Can you get the Transportation Minister to hijack some trains for us?"

"Maybe. General Takahashi?"

"Air Force's job is to be ready to go at all times," said Takahashi. At any time half or more squadrons were to operating. The rest were usually down for repairs or rest. Takahashi had taken the entire 1st Air Force off active operations two months ago to make they could sortie. His foresight had put him ahead of his colleagues. "It's just a matter of making sure we have places for them to land. Plus flying to Europe will take a while, sir. I think my pilots will probably fly to America which will take 12 hours. Then rest. Fly to Europe, which could be another 6 or 12 hours depending on where their flying out of. Rest again. Another day or two to get everything organized and then they're ready."

"Wakarimashita (I understand). You're to be ready by the 7th," said Prime Minister Aokami. "Get to work. We don't have much time."

* * *

**1800 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012; Executive Assembly Building, Belgrade; City of Belgrade District, Socialist Republic of Serbia; Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia**

"This is just great!" shouted Ivica Ručan. The Chairman of Croatia was both scared and furious. "We are going to have to withdraw from your fucking state!"

"Comrade Chairman Ručan, please, there is no need to yell or use such language," said Osam Čolaković, Chairman of Serbia, calmly with a slight wave of the hand. "We are not pulling out of our lands."

"Not pull out! NATO will destroy us from the skies. They will blockade us from the seas. Then, when they are good and ready they will plow across our lands," said Obrad Maglajlija, Chairman of Bosnia & Herzegovina.

"You're concerns should be less than my people. Croatia has committed eight times the about of troops Bosnia has," growled Chairman Ručan.

"You concerns are noted, Comrade Chairman," said General-Secretary Ante Mikosvić. "NATO will obviously not back down. Comrade Minister Nikola Marinković, a plan?"

The Minister of Defense was sweating. He'd been counting on Soviet backing. "Uh, comrades, NATO has an overwhelming air and naval advantage over us. Our best bet would be to make sure they have nowhere to land their troops. They have authorization to retake the so called 'Republic of Kosovo'. They don't not have the authorization to land troops on Montenegro or Croatia, right Comrade Minister Uzunović?"

The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Marko Uzunović, nodded. "Da, they have to attack from Albania. If they attack Slovenia from Italy or Austria, or Macedonia from Greece, they would be beyond the scope of their power they got from the 'UN' and would draw the Soviet Union into war."

Uzunović used UN with a tone of sarcasm. The Yugoslavs didn't like the United Nations. They hated they idea of a distant organization that made decisions about their nation without any Yugoslavian representing them. The Security Council was a joke and many Yugoslavians, with the aid of the Propaganda Ministry, believed it corrupt. The Soviets shared a similar view. Unknown to these men would have been surprised that their American counterparts would have agreed with them, though not about corruption, but Americans usually thought incompetency was worse.

"Comrades, our best course of action is to ensure the Americans do not have a place to land their soldiers," said Marinković. He had a plan now. "We must launch an attack on Albania."

There was a loud silence that seemed to cause Marinković's ears to pound, though it was really caused by an increased heart rate from nerves. For a moment he thought his career, and maybe his life, was over. The Chairmen of Yugoslavia and the General-Secretary of Yugoslavia however were thinking that one over.

"The Albanians are now allowing the retreating Kosovars into their territory. Now that Pristina has fallen the rebel army is fleeing into Albania," said Mikosvić thoughtfully.

"Da, that is true, Comrade General-Secretary," agreed Chairman Ručan. Although he didn't like being under a general-secretary from Serbia, but he hated Albanians more. So did the others.

The only exception was the Bosnian Chairman. He had his doubts about listening to his so-called comrades, but he had no choice.

Maglajlija would regret not making an effort to prevent the inferno that had begun. A political heck trying to save his job by bullshitting had lit the flames.

* * *

**2031 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012; local mosque, Prizren; District of Prizren, Republic of Kosovo**

Prizren was a city in the southern part of Kosovo. Roughly two-thirds of the population was Albanian along with Turks, Roma, and Bosniaks.

Sgt. Ermir Ruli sat on the sill of a window overlooking the river below. On the floor below he could hear the imam of this mosque pleading for his following to leave Prizren. Unfortunately, Prizren had fallen already. Pvt. Jak Meksi was asleep against the wall next to Ruli. Ruli wanted him fully rested for their run for the border where the rest of the Army was headed.

He saw a pickup truck driving along the river. The truck, a Toyoda, made a turn and across one of the many stone bridges to Ruli's side of the river. Two men got out and pulled back a blanket revealing a soldier in the back. Ruli wondered if it was a Yugoslav soldier capture and were planning on a half-assed interrogation. But then Ruli saw the men help the soldier out of the back. Through his scope Ruli saw the coat of arms of the Republic.

He heard footsteps after a while. The door across the room opened revealing the imam.

"Sergeant, two of my following have found a soldier," said the old man. He was a tired looking man in his 70s who wide eyes full of sadness. Ruli suspected that due to his age and his religious beliefs that he had suffered greatly at the hands of Serbians.

"I saw, sir," said Ruli. Meksi was awake now. When he heard someone approaching the door he'd picked up his gun. Now it was just lying in his lap.

A woman entered behind the imam. She wore the same uniform as Meksi, dark-green with brown forming a patchwork of colors. The only difference was she was wearing a headscarf.

"Private 1st Class Umut Pekkan, radio operator. 9th Infantry Regiment," she said tiredly.

"Sergeant 1st Class Ermir Ruli, attached to the 1st Mountain Brigade. This is Private Jak Meksi, 10th Infantry Battalion, 4th Infantry Regiment," said Ruli introducing the two of them. The Kosovo was not a big country and did not have a big population and that equated to them having a small army. The Kosovo Army only had two infantry divisions. They only had enough soldiers and vehicles to form one armor brigade. The Yugoslav People's Army was only using three divisions (7). They had nine more following them.

"Më vjen mirë (pleased to meet you)," said Pekkan. Her name was not Albanian, but Turkish. She looked Slavic for the most part, but some subtle traces of Turkish ancestry remained. Some Muslims who couldn't go to the West went south to Kosovo hoping to find safety amongst the Albanian majority. The Albanian-Kosovars weren't always the friendliest, but it was a great place to be if you wanted to be away from Serbia.

She looked down at Meksi. "The 4th was on the front. What happened? Where is the 4th? You never made contact with our regiment."

Meksi shook his head. "11th and 12th Infantry broke ranks under the main assault. We had the flank and were supposed to cover the retreat while the villages were evacuated. We held against two attacks, both from different lead by different companies of light infantry. The third attack was mech infantry."

"So what happened two the 11th and 12th Battalions?"

"I saw some of the 12th heading for Pristina the other day. No idea where the 11th are," said Meksi looking down at his boots and rotating his carbine absentmindedly. He paused for a few seconds before saying, "I can tell you this much."

"Po (yes)?" asked Pekkan.

"You're looking at the entire 10th Infantry Battalion," said Meksi. He was fighting back tears.

"Does that radio work?" asked Ruli as he gazed out the window.

"Po, but they changed the frequencies. I was afraid to use an open channel," she said. She felt like a coward for not reporting in.

"That was smart of you," said Ruli taking a sip from his canteen. "Probably would have been captured and you know what they do to women of your faith."

Ruli didn't need an answer. He knew the whole reason the Pekkan had joined was because of what Serbians had done to Slavic-Muslims in Bosnia. Pekkan nodded. She was afraid of capture and the scarf she wore around her heard, while being important to her faith, marked her as a Muslim. Capture to her meant being raped, just like her mother had been by the Serbian Army during the Bosnian War. She had never told anyone, but her real father was a captain in Serbian Army. She was one-fourth Turk, one-fourth Bosniak, and half Serb. She was not alone however. She had many friends who were the results of rape by the Serbians, some even Croatian. All who could had joined the Kosovar Armed Forces. All of them hated Serbia and her allies.

"What now?" she asked.

"We wait for midnight and then head to Albania," said Ruli.

"Retreat?" asked Pekkan. She didn't like it very much even though she'd been doing it since Pristina had fallen.

"Umut," said Meksi. "We never had a chance. The whole Army is there and what's left of the Air Force. The Sergeant says it's more important the Army stays intact and lives to fight another day. Right?"

"Right," said Ruli, smiling a little. Meksi noted this had been the first time Sgt. Ruli had done so since they first met.

She frowned. She was outranked and outnumbered. She also wasn't sure if she liked Meksi calling her by her first name.

She sat down across from Meksi and Ruli. "So where are you from?"

"Dren," said Meksi. "Up in the Leposaviq."

Leposavic, or Leposaviq as the Albanian-Kosovars called it, was the northern most municipality in Kosovo. It had the largest number of Serbs, the only province with a Serb majority over Albanians. Meksi had growned up on a farm. Dren was a small north of the city of Leposavic, the provincial capital, that was on the Ibar River and Route-22 that ran north into Serbia and south to the Kosovar capital Pristina.

"Our Regiment made a stand around Donji Kmjin, just north of Dren. The Yukes wanted control of Route-22 and the main rail line since they both go to Pristina. They destroyed everything in their path. Sgt. Ruli was kind enough to let me see my home," said Meksi.

"And?"

"Couldn't go in. The smell of death was too strong. Some of the buildings were still smoldering. I just couldn't bring myself to go in."

"I'm from Zrze," said Pekkan. Zrze was in the Orahovac Municipality in the western part of the country closer to the Albanian border. It was also was a major crossroad city, though the city itself wasn't that big. Four highways converged around Zrze so people taking the highways around the south or west would likely have to pass through the city. The main north-south line in the western parts of Kosovo went straight through Zrze.

"Has your town fallen to the JNA?" asked Ruli when he heard where she was from.

"Uh, not that I know of. I came from Pristina, down E851," said Pekkan. E851 was a major highway that ran northeast until it met the E65 that ran directly into Pristina. The JNA had used it to advance to Prizren. The E851 continued westward along the Drin River to the city of Kukës, Albania. The Drin flowed past Zrez and into the Frerzë Lake, an artificial lake that supplied a hydroelectric dam at Frezë, but the lake stretched all the way to Kukës. What was left of the Kosovar Armed Forces was 12 km west of Prizren at Zur buying time for the wounded and refugees in Vrbnica, 4 km west of Zur and 16 km from Prizren, to escape across the Albanian border. It was only 1.5 km to the border from Vrbnica. 1 km across the border was Morinë, Albania were the Albanian Army.

There were only three highways that entered Albania from Kosovo. The E851 in the southwest of Kosovo was the main highway. A railway line was still being worked on.

The other two highways, both much smaller, crossed the border in the west. One went through a valley and crossed the border near Morina, Kosovo. The other was nearly dead-center of the Kosovar-Albanian border in the mountains, a less appealing route. Both of those highways converged in the city of Gjakovë, which was still in Kosovar hands. If the Yugoslavians took Gjakovë then they would effectively control these few major crossing into Albania.

Ruli pulled out a map. 'They they were coming from the capital then they would probably send a force westward along this highway through Komorane, Malisevo, Orahovac, and eventually through Zrze.'

He'd remembered the JNA had attacked the Kosovar flank from the northwest of Prizren, down the highway to Zrze. It also would put the JNA in position to attack Gjakovë. It was a good plan.

"Mmm, that strange," said Ruli looking out the window. He saw a column of BVP infantry fighting vehicles, the Yugoslav copy of the BMP. It was following some M-84 tanks. What interested him was that logistic vehicles like fuel trucks were with them. A sign they weren't planning on fighting. If Ruli remembered his training he'd received from the Americans then this formation suggested a unit preparing for a sustained assault. In fact it looked like a motor-rifle battalion. There were signs of more battalions. Maybe a division.

"What is, Sergeant?" asked Pekkan who was pulling out a blanket from her pack. She was planning on getting rest.

"Too many units outside just for an attack on Zur. Those guys already on the south side of town. Plus the valley is too narrow for more than a company or two fight side-by-side. They have funnel them in… they have logistic vehicles too," said Ruli thinking out loud.

"Maybe their resupplying," said Meksi.

"That much is obvious," said Ruli. "But these guys should be heading north to Gjakovë. They're just staying here and more keep coming. Just like their setting up for an invasion. This level of consolidating forces wouldn't make sense for much else. There also assembling artillery."

He saw Urals pulled around towed-artillery and M-63 Plamen rocket artillery vehicles lining up along the roads. And… bridge laying vehicles? The land was mostly flat along the valley ahead. Maybe a few were needed, but not as many as Ruli could see crossing a bridge upstream. There wasn't a river until they got near… Kukës.

"They wouldn't," breathed Ruli. "They wouldn't be that greedy."

Would they?

"Meksi, Pekkan, change of plans. We're leaving now," ordered Ruli.

"What?" asked Pekkan.

"Get your stuff," said Meksi. "He does this sometimes."

"Why?"

"Because, they're going to be bringing in a lot more troops. If we wait we'll never escape," said Ruli.

They were downstairs five minutes later. Ruli was asking for a car. The imam nodded. Half an hour later someone drove up in a beat up sedan. According to the imam the owner of the car had died during an air raid and that they could just take it.

"Meksi," said Ruli.

"Po, sir?"

"Change into these," he said tossing him civilian clothes. "And you will call me Ermir. If they stop us you are to say that I am your cousin and that she is your wife."

"Excuse me," said Pekkan annoyed that she had no say in this.

"You change into this," said Ruli throwing her a dress.

They burned their uniforms. Ruli disassembled his sniper rifle and hid it in the car. Meksi tossed his M4A1 into a well and Pekkan had to drop her M16A4 with it. They couldn't risk it being found.

They got into the car, Ruli at the wheel. Meksi and Pekkan sat in the back. They drove past the JNA troops. Meksi noted the corps markings on the soldiers and vehicles. The majority was Croatian troops, but there were also lots of Serbians. He even saw markings from Bosnian divisions. They paid them no mind though. It seemed they were too busy with something else.

Suddenly an officer stood out in the middle of the road with his hand raised in a gesture saying halt. Pekkan was shaking. The officer was Serbian. She slowly reached for the small snub-nose Smith & Wesson revolver under her coat. Meksi saw her and grabbed her hand.

"Don't," he whispered.

The Serbian officer meanwhile had turned to his right and waved someone forward. A group of T-55 medium tanks through the intersection ahead of the Kosovars. They relaxed. The officer was a MP (military police) sub-lieutenant just directing traffic. When the last of the tanks passed we waved the car on. Ruli passed and even gave the lieutenant a slight wave which he returned.

"I don't like this," said Ruli. "They are so busy they aren't us any attention."

It was true. Meksi and Pekkan hadn't seen any idle soldiers. All were repairing vehicles or tanks, sowing up holes in their uniforms, cleaning their weapons, checking equipment, loading magazines, or running around to complete other tasks. This wasn't their usual protocol after they took a city a mere few hours ago. They would inspect homes and search for Kosovar soldiers, resistance fighters, political enemies, and people they labeled dissidents. They wouldn't bring in multiple divisions to resupply with all the logistics vehicles and senior officers without making sure the place was safe first. This meant some kind of emergency had happened.

They got outside of Prizren and headed south towards the mountains. Ruli figured the JNA would probably head west towards Zur and would avoid the mountains. The far south of Kosovo was not heavily populated and wasn't easy to reach. Only one highway went that way and it went to Macedonia, part of Yugoslavia. The Macedonians had been repelled as they were unable to breach the Kosovar defenses in the mountains. Half an hour later they were south a large mountain. On its north side was Zur. 15 minutes later they were at the crossroads, one taking a small highway across the mountains into Albania and the other to Plava, Kosovo. They head west, but their pace was slowed by civilians from Plava, and even as far south as Brod, heading for the border before Yugoslav soldiers eventually marched into the undefended southern tip of Kosovo.

After an hour of slow moving they reached the border. A red flag with a black double-headed eagle of Albania greeted them.

Ruli pulled the car up to one of the Albanian soldiers manning the small border post. "Mirëmbrëma (good evening)."

"Mirëmbrëma," said the sergeant.

"I'm Sergeant 1st Class Ermir Ruli, Kosovar Army. I just came from Prizren with these two, Pvt. Jak Meksi and PFC Umut Pekkan. We need a radio."

"For?"

"The Yukes are up to something and I think my superiors should know."

The sergeant signaled to a captain for his attention. He whispered something and the captain nodded.

"Okay, Sgt. Ruli. Follow my superior. He will help you."

"Faleminderit (Thank you)."

* * *

**2147 Hours; March 26****th****, 2012; Third Military Region Headquarters, Skopje; Greater Skopje Municipality, Socialist Republic of Macedonia; Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia**

Colonel-General Koce Mančev was a little perturbed by his orders. As commander of the Third Military Region he was in charge of operations in his native Macedonia and well as Kosovo, Montenegro, and southern Serbia.

Mančev had attempted to send his friend Colonel-General Ratko Velkov, commander of the Third Army, into southern Kosovo. In Yugoslavia, the military is divided by what country they were recruited from. The First Army was recruited from northern Serbia and Vojvodina, the Second Army was recruited from southern Serbia and Kosovo, the Third Army was recruited from Macedonia, the Fifth Army was recruited from Croatia, the Seventh Army was recruited from Bosnia-Herzegovina, and the Ninth Army was recruited from Slovenia. Each army varied in size and was usually calculated by number of corpses, Serbia had the most and Montenegro had the least.

Velkov had been repealed by heavily entrenched Kosovars in the mountains. He also suspected the Albanian Army had intervened too. Mančev did have satellite photos that proved that armed Albanian militia, not officially associated with the Albanian government, had gone across the mountains to aid their Kosovar brothers and sisters.

Was this the reason for his new orders?

From the Council, and sent through Ministry of Defense, was orders for him. As commander of pretty much everything south of Belgrade was tasked with this new mission… well he had a different word for it and one a lot more cynical.

Since his orders were sent at 2030 hours Belgrade Time (Central European Time UTC +1) he had every unit in his region scrambling around to prepare for immediate combat operations. It nearly an impossible task just after completing a combat operation, but for once Belgrade was mobilizing everything to make it possible.

"Comrade General Mančev?"

Mančev looked up to see Colonel-General Ivan Zivković, Second Army Commander.

"Ah, Comrade General. How are things in Prizren?"

"They go well. I came here to ask do we have a plan?"

"Ne (no). The Minister of Defense himself says he will create it himself. We now control Gjakovë and are pushing up the highways for the border, right?"

"Da, Comrade General," answered Zivković. "We will be in position soon."

"Good. The Seventh Army will attack from Montenegro and Croatia. They'll have easier going since it will be across the flat lands," said Mančev.

Montenegro's shared border with Albania was the flattest. There was a massive lake in the middle of the flat land, Lake Skadar. On the south side of the Lake Skadar is the Buna River, or Bonjana River as it was called in Montenegro, that ran along the border. On the north side of Lake Skadar was highway E762 which skirted the mountains and got increasingly narrow as they approached the border on the north side. Once they passed the north tip of Lake Skadar the valley opened up. It would be pretty open lands for tanks as they approached the port of Shëngjin and the crossroads city of Lezhë. The Seventh Army would hopefully be able to move fast to threaten the Albanian capital and the major port city Durrës. That was all Mančev knew so far. He suspected Third Army would be sent through Struga, Macedonia. The plan seemed to be to deny NATO ports to land their troops on first and then take Albania.

"Comrade General, just do your best and move fast. You have infantry so use them. Our tanks can't mountains and neither can NATO's. If they block the roads use infantry to scale the mountains and attack from behind. Since I suspect the terrain will dictate you'll be going down this valley after you take Kukës."

"Da, but I would like to send corps west so I can link up with the Seventh in case they or I need help," said Zivković.

"Sounds fair. Remember, speed is the key. We have 40 hours or so. Once you start I would say you have a week to secure all ports or make it too risky for them to be used."

"Will the Third Army cover our flank?" asked Zivković.

Mančev smiled. "Very good Comrade General. Da, I will make sure that Greece doesn't get involved by driving up the E86 or E75."

Most of the Greek-Macedonian border was mountains, but the E86 went up a valley in the middle of the border. The E75 was further east. The E86 was more appealing because it was wide farmland and had no mountains blocking the road to city of Prilep, one of the larger cities in Macedonia and a major crossroads town.

"Most like the Ninth Army will make sure NATO won't attack from Italy or Austria."

The Ninth Army in Slovenia manned the heavily defended border between the communist east and capitalist west.

"The final details are left to the Minister of Defense, but this is the outline he gave me," said Mančev. "You return to your unit. I'll call with final details."

"Hvala (Thank you), Comrade General. Dovidenja (Good-bye)," said Zivković taking his leave.

(AN: I strongly suggest you guys look at a map of the Balkans and get an idea of what these countries look like. You don't have to find of these cities, but get a feel for the mountains, borders, and cities. PS: I spend half the time writing these chapters with Google Maps open on my computer and a resent atlas on my desk and I'm constantly surfing sites to cross check things and my facts.)

* * *

**0705 Hours; March 28****th****, 2012 (UCT +9); Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

**Central European Standard Time (UCT +1): 1105 Hours; March 27****th****, 2012**

Kenji was leaning against the wall that lined Tsukamoto home. He saw the news yesterday before they drove back to Yagami. NATO would be at war at 0000 Zulu (midnight GMT) March 30th. Japan and Korea were nine hours ahead of GMT so Japan would be at war officially at 0900 Lima (9 am local) of the same day.

Yakumo was finishing setting out breakfast. She returned to the kitchen and put on the ring, her ring, on again. She did not want oils or sauces tarnishing this important gift from an important person.

Kenji had gotten up early to meet the postman. He was surprised there hadn't been a letter from the Federal Government with his orders.

Yakumo walked to the window of the dining room. She could see the gate and just see the edge of Kenji waiting. She was worried. Kenji was quiet and depressed, and for good reason. She turned to the TV in the room that he'd left on to the NHK News.

"It has been confirmed that roughly 48 hours NATO will declare war on the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia unless they removed their troops from the Republic of Kosovo," said the reporter. At the bottom of the screen was a stock report from the Nikkei Index, Sony was up a point and Mitsubishi had recovered the points they lost over the weekend… not that Yakumo really cared. The reporter seemed to be live, or so the little box in the top left corner, from Kukës, Albania, according to the caption.

"Is there any hope Yugoslavia will pull out," asked an anchor woman.

"I don't think so, Yoko. As you can see there are still Kosovo refugees behind me. They have come from Vrbnica, the city nearest the border from my current location. Since the UN resolution had been passed by the Security Council the Yugoslav People's Army, the armed forces of Yugoslavia, have crushed the last of Kosovar resistance. These refugees have told me stories of villages being destroyed, perceived political dissidents being shot, and even allegations of rape," said the reporter. Yakumo cringed a little. The string of exhausted dirty Kosovars hiked by behind the reporter. They all seem to have the same hopeless defeated look, but also relief at being in Albania where they were welcomed.

"Eiichi, I have to say, this does not sound like Europe as we know it from Nihon," said the anchor woman.

"Ee (yeah). Most of us think of London, Paris, or Rome. I'm sure most of you at home will be struggling to figure out where I am right now, which is less than 20 km from the border. The Balkans is a place of much violence. It had been once the border between the Eastern and Western Roman Empires, a buffer zone for the Ottoman Empire to keep the Austrian Empire out, and is where the First World War was started. Here is also where many horror stories like Dracula have its origins. And for the past 30 years since the collapse of the first SFRY it has been the site of ethnic, religious, and political violence, mass rape, genocide, looting, revolts, terrorism, civil war, and the list goes on," said the reporter. Yakumo felt her heart stop. They were sending her fiancée there?!

"They don't sound like friendly people," said the anchor woman.

"Don't misunderstand. There are perfectly nice people in Serbia, Croatia, and other Yugoslav Republics, I've studied the Slavic people and their history since college. It is a fascinating group still with many groups living nomadic lives and are possibly not aware of the war. This is also not a free society and this war is the work of the Yugoslav Government."

"Why fight for Kosovo? Is there oil?"

"Ie. Kosovo in terms of resources is virtually worthless. There is mining, but nothing that Serbia or Croatia wouldn't have. This war is strictly politics. Kosovo was an autonomous region of Serbia that declared independence with NATO backing during the Kosovo War in the 90s."

Mai entered the room. She was dressed in street clothes: T-shirt, knee-length skirt, and a windbreaker with hood. It was expected to rain today and Mai needed to buy her school uniform and books.

"Onii-chan doko (where is Onii-chan)?" asked Mai.

"By the mailbox," said Yakumo.

Kenji looked up seeing the middle-age man in the blue postal service uniform making his rounds.

"Ohayo gozaimasu," greeted the letter-carrier tipping his blue cap.

"Ohayo gozaimasu," said Kenji. "Tegami kara Tokyo arimasu ka (You have a letter from Tokyo)?"

"Hai. Taxes and a paycheck," said the letter-carrier. He handed Kenji the mix of mail for the Tsukamotos and him. There was a letter from Sagamihara University for Tsukamoto Yakumo, probably her final grades for her first years. There was a letter for Harima Mai from Yagami Junior High School. Tenma's grades were due tomorrow. There were also taxes from the government and two letters for Kenji along with a subscription from a manga newsletter.

He brought the mail inside and dropped it on the heated-table that Mai, Tenma, and Yakumo were sitting around. He opened one letter with a return address was a place Kenji was familiar with. He opened it and found his end of the month paycheck from the paymaster's office for the 6th Infantry Division in Sendai. He was paid less since he was a reservist not on active duty and was independently employed. All three of his female companions were watching him with rapt attention.

Kenji noticed his hands were shaking a little.

PFC Harima Kenji

The return address was from Federal Army Headquarters, Tokyo.

The letter itself was a form letter. Someone in Tokyo probably wrote one letter and then a few blanks were left where a computer would fill in the particulars like Kenji's name, his unit, and where to report.

'Dear Private First Class Harima;

'Due to recent events the Diet has passed a resolution to deploy troops to maintain peace and stability in the Balkans and protect the sovereignty of the Republic of Kosovo. By order of Prime Minister of the Federation of Japan Aokami Shin and ratified by His Imperial Excellency Akihito-Tennō the decision was made at 0600 Hours Zulu, 27 March, 2012, to deploy the 6th Infantry Division.

'You have until 0800 Hours Zulu, 6 April, 2012, when your division will officially be activated to place you affairs into order and report in to a designated train station where a designated official will meet. Location is on attached page. We hope that we do not have to remind you to bring your personal equipment; the rest will be given to you at the designated location also on attached page.

'Your country thanks you for your loyal service to the Federation and to Your Emperor.

'Sincerely; Chief of the Federal Army Kugashi Toshi; Chief of Staff General Kobayashi Jin; Prime Minister of the Federal of Japan Aokami Shin; Emperor of the Federation of Japan Akihito-Tennō.'

On the attached page:

'At 0800 Hours Zulu you are to report to Second Lieutenant Yamamoto Daisuke at Yagami JR East Station. You will be given further instructions at that time.'

Kenji let out a long sigh that was neither relief nor stress. A neutral look took over his face and the soldier in him took over. Being an enlisted man and at the bottom of the military hierarchy Kenji wasn't entitled to know where he'd end up. Why he wasn't allowed to know was not entirely clear. Surely a spy would notice all the letters going to everyone in the 6th Infantry and who knows how many other units. Then they would consolidate them somewhere like they did for the landings at Pusan. Surely a recon satellite would notice planes or ships all assembling at one place.

"Nani?" asked Tenma breaking the silence.

"I have a week. I leave next Monday," said Kenji lightly, almost warily. "I have to be at Yagami-Eki (Yagami Station) by 8:00 am."

"So ka," said Tenma quietly.

Kenji picked up his chopsticks and began to eat his breakfast knowing he needed to eat something. Tenma and Yakumo proved less able to force themselves to eat.

The four of them after breakfast went out shopping. They were quiet in the train as they went into downtown Yagami where many shops and malls were located.

They exited the train in the heart of Yagami. They walked into a mall atrium and passed the mall map. They all knew where they were going, a clothing store that specialized in uniforms such as those used for hospitals, school sports teams, and school uniforms. It was here that Tenma, Kenji, and Yakumo had all bought their uniforms.

Kenji took at seat while an old man took Mai's measurements.

"You'll probably want a uniform that's a little big for you," said the man in a raspy voice. "Since you're 12 you'll be growing faster. There's no point in giving you one that fits you now and you'll outgrow in two months."

"Mm, I think you're probably right," said Tenma who was standing next to Mai. Yakumo, who stood behind her older sister, nodded in agreement.

"Okay. I'll let my wife do that actual work if you'd be so kind," he said indicating a woman with grey hair standing by a back room. Mai nodded and followed the woman with Tenma and Yakumo.

Kenji waited patiently in his chair. Next to him were a few other people, mostly likely parents getting their kids uniforms for school. Kenji ignored them and read the officially Army guidebook on Europe. It was apparently was a collection from manuals used by the Bundeswehr, British Army, US Army, and Belgian Army. Most of the records on Yugoslavia and Kosovo came from the US and German militaries. He was reading what the Germans wrote about religion and politics, but it was making his head hurt. Kenji had been given a lecture on it during his previous training session, but he got the feeling it was a lot more complicated than the simple one the Army gave.

"Onii-chan?"

Kenji looked up from a very confusing chapter on ethnic violence during the Bosnian War to see Mai. Kenji smiled widely and said, "Ah, kawaii ne."

"Honto (really)?" asked Mai. She was wearing a summer uniform. It was a pretty standard sailor-style uniform. It was white with a blue sailor and red tie and a blue pleaded skirt. The winter uniform, which was being made in the back by the old woman, had a dark navy-blue shirt with matching collar and skirt and a white tie to secure the collar.

"Ee, totemo kawaii (yes, it's very cute)," he assured her. Mai smiled sweetly and ran back to try on her winter uniform. A few mothers sitting near Kenji were whispering how cute the little girl had been.

Nearly an hour later the four of them were walking to another shop, though Kenji had forgotten where they were going and merely followed the others while carrying the bag containing a summer and winter uniform.

The girls turned to enter a shop and Kenji was about to enter when he remembered why they were there. Mai needed new clothes too and she also needed…

"I think I'll let you ladies take care of this one on your own," Kenji said nervously. Mai giggled.

Mai picked up a couple of new shirts, her preference being T-shirts and collared shirts. She also picked up two tank tops, avoiding the low cut ones. She also took some jeans and a few skirts, the shorting being just above her knees. Mai didn't think of herself as being conservative dresser, or preppy for that matter, she just revealed the amount of her body as she comfortable sharing with the world.

She tried them on in a changing room. She rejected a couple of shirts after deciding she didn't like them. Next she picked up a set of underwear, yellow with little white flowers. Much to her displeasure, Mai couldn't seem to figure out how to put it on.

"Ano, Onee-chan?" she called out tentatively.

"Hai?" said Yakumo who waited outside patiently.

"Tasuke kudasai (help me please)," she said embarrassed. Mai unlocked the door for Yakumo who promptly entered and locked it behind her. Yakumo took one look and knew exactly what Mai wanted.

"You lean forward first after you put the straps over your shoulders. Then take both ends of the hooks, stand up straight, and then hook them together," explained the older woman.

(AN: Don't ask how I know this.)

To further demonstrate Yakumo removed the light-blue turtleneck revealing a white cotton bra. She demonstrated for Mai, though Mai noted that Yakumo had to maneuver the bra a little more to make sure her breasts were snuggly in place. Mai looked at herself. Size-wise she was a little ahead of some of the girls her age, but not by much. Mai also wondered when she started to be concerned about such things. Was this part of growing up? She hoped not. Mai just wanted a normal life for now.

Kenji was predictably in a store that sold manga, manga supplies, anime, video games, products related to animes and games, and cosplay costumes.

"Oi, Harima-kun," said a voice.

"Konnichiwa, Captain," said Kenji saluting Captain Nara Kentaro.

"Harima-kun, I'm not in uniform. Relax. We were classmates," said Kentaro. Kenji nodded and grinned. He had a lot of respect for Kentaro because he had decided to be regular military. Kentaro made a fulltime living as a fighter pilot.

"What brings you here, Nara-kun?" asked Kenji picking up and flipping through an old copy of Negima.

"You're new issue," said Kentaro picking up the last installment of Kenji's series on the war.

"I could have had a copy sent to you," said Kenji. "You're accounts on the Air Force helped a lot."

"Ie, I didn't do anything really," said Kentaro politely. "So, you leave on the 7th like everyone else?"

"Hai. I'm supposed to report to the Yagami-Eki at 8 am."

"Ee, they'll probably send you to Shinjuku and then to either Ueno-Eki, Tokyo-Eki, or Shinagawa-Eki," said Kentaro matter of factly.

"… how do you know that?"

"They're going to send Army personnel to Kure and Hiroshima. I saw transports gathering there yesterday from the air, I was taking up some new pilots. Anyways, they'll probably want to send you guys quickly meaning they'll use the mainline that follows the coast. Ueno, Tokyo, and Shinagawa are all stations on that line," explained Kentaro.

"Oh… right," said Kenji.

"I don't know where they're sending us, but I know they'll send our squadron. Maybe the whole damn group."

"Our whole division is activated."

"Fuck. This is gonna' be a pain," groaned Kentaro.

"So ne," agreed Kenji.

"Hanai-kun and Hanai-san back yet?" asked Kentaro flipping through a copy of Azumanga Daioh. He smiled at the old manga that was devoid of a normal story plot. It was a story of life and the small random things in it. A life Kentaro sorta' knew once upon a time, but not anymore.

"Ie, they'll be back by Ginyobi (Friday)," said Kenji looking at volume from the Nodame Cantabile.

"What are you going to do?"

"… spend a little time with my family. Get a deadline done. Make sure a few finical things are in order. I guess that's it really."

"Same."

Kenji felt his phone vibrate. "Hai? … Hai, I'll be right there."

He hung up. "I have to go."

Kenji held out his hand. "Good luck, and good hunting."

Kentaro grinned and gripped Kenji's hand. "They'll never know what hit him. You just kill every SAM you see."

Back on the train Kenji stood holding onto one of the straps attached to the horizontal bar. He knew he Mai was grouping up and he wouldn't be around to watch. A time when she would need her brother the most Kenji would be on the other side of the world. He looked over at Mai who sat between Tenma and Yakumo. Mai really got along well with the two Tsukamoto sisters, especially Yakumo. Kenji smiled. Mai would be in good hands.

Still Kenji lamented. It was projected to take a month to get Europe at the most. Many people in Japan believed that the war would be over before the Federal Army and Navy even reached Europe. They all seemed to believe, or hope, that the Americans and Europeans would get their first and end the war before the Japanese fleet even reached the Atlantic. Kenji hoped for this too, but as far back as he could remember his life never quite seem to go the way he hoped for. The last 12 years told him that.

* * *

**0530 Hours; March 28****th****, 2012 (UCT +2); 1 km from the border, Morinë; Kukës County, Republic of Albania**

**Japanese Standard Time (UCT +9): 1230 Hours; March 28****th****, 2012**

The private lit his cigarette. He was bored. He could hear the distant thunder of MiGs. It made him nervous. The Albanians barely had an air force. Most of their planes were badly outdated Soviet and Chinese fighters that had been retired in 2005. They had a handful of F-5 Tiger IIs and some Phantoms, but no Falcons.

Albania had once been part of the Warsaw Pact and had mostly Soviet weapons. They joined NATO in 2009 and had yet to equip their military with NATO compatible weapons.

The private was still carrying the Chinese-built Type 56, the Chinese clone of the AK-47. Some day he was support to get the American M16, the German HK53, or the Belgian FNC. When, was the real question.

"Luan, is that you?" called out the private.

"Po," said Luan.

"Are those planes getting closer?"

The Yugoslav fighters had not made a direct run at the border but would curve towards it and turn back over the valley.

"Mmm, that last pass did seem closer than the earlier ones. Not much we can do though, Kostandin," said Luan.

They heard tanks. It sounded like a Soviet model, but the Albanians used Chinese Type 59s which sounded nearly the same.

"Luan, that noise is coming from the north. I think we might be under-"

There was a splatter noise and Kostandin felt something wet hit his face. He wiped it off his and by the light of his cigarette he saw it was red. He looked to where Luan had been and then looked down.

"Fuck," he whispered. "We're under atta-!"

Kostandin never finished his sentence. He joined his friend on the ground with blood still sweeping out of his jugular where a Yugoslav sniper had hit him. Things started moving very quickly. Rifle and machine gun fire erupted from line of advancing Serbian troops, but their tanks didn't fire their main guns. Their orders were to take the Albanians by surprise and to keep shooting to a minimal to avoid alerting the Albanians.

"Comrade Lieutenant, your platoon is slowing us down. Pick up the pace and cover the flank," backed a Serbian captain.

"Da, Comrade," acknowledged the lieutenant via radio. The lieutenant sighed inside his BVP. None of the BVPs in his platoon had to have their infantry dismount yet. The coaxial guns on the T-55s and the auto-cannons on the BVPs were cutting down most of the Albanian troops. He smiled. Intelligence had been right this time. The Albanians had great defensive positions, but were too poorly equipped to hold them. In another kilometer Company A of the 119th Motor-Rifle Battalion will hit the real Albanian front lines. They were to expect mortars, RPGs, MGs, and possibly a tank or two.

The shooting ceased and only the clank of vehicle tracks could be heard. He doubted the Albanians would survive the JNA's blitz. There would be a whole division that would funnel down the Drin River valley. Another division was advancing around both sides of Lake Ohrid on the Macedonian-Albanian border. Another was going to launch a sudden attack out of Montenegro. They had to move fast though. They needed to seize the vital crossroads by the end of the day and be in artillery range of all the Albanian ports by the next. They also needed to bring extensive anti-air support to ensure NATO planes flying out of Italy wouldn't impede them.

'Da,' he thought. 'NATO would have nowhere to land their Imperialist armies. We are making history.'

Indeed, March 28, 2012 would go down in history and a day that this generation would not forget.

* * *

Well I have things going in motion now. The next chapter will comprise of Kenji in his last few days in Japan before being shipped off, some of the other characters too, maybe we'll check in with Lt. Pryce and Corporal Mauhauser, and some other things. I also have plans to explore Mai a little. Also the idea of families watching their relatives go off to war. I also been slowly worker at the borderline mother-daughter relationship Yakumo has with Mai. Let me know what ya'll think.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. The Japanese usually refer to mainland Asia as the Continent. In the past the Japanese would use this as a nickname for China and Korea, before the West arrived. I think some Japanese still sometimes refer to their neighbors across the Sea of Japan as the Continent.

2. The real Security Council is two seats for Western Europe and other, one for Asia, and one for Africa. Russia, China, France, the United Kingdom, and the United States have permanent seats.

3. Right Honorable is the style of address to the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. It is also used by a few other Commonwealth countries.

4. Pond is sometimes used as a nickname by the British for the Atlantic Ocean.

5. Kamatte naa translates as damn, or something stronger depending on the translator. Remember profanities in the English language don't really have exact translations like they do in Spanish or German where the languages share some origins.

6. Oilers and tenders are types of logistics ships used in navies. Most people only think about destroyers, cruisers, submarines, and aircraft carriers in navies. But no fleet intending to be away from port for a while would go anywhere without resupply ships. War is about logistics. That is why Germany lost both World Wars, why Napoleon lost in Russia, and why many great armies lose. I believe the Erwin Rommel has a quote about whoever brings the most supplies usually wins.

7. It should be noted that Yugoslav People's Army used the Soviet military model to organize their military. The Soviets did not use brigades, except as a separate body not attached to any division. In the US Army model the brigade is part of a division (roughly three regiments to a brigade and three brigades to a division). In other words a brigade would be the same size as a division in the Red Army, People's Liberation Army, or the Yugoslav People's Army.


	13. Chapter 13: Last Days of Peace

Sorry about another long delay. Finals for the term, going home in a blizzard, dealing with my family… sigh. I really don't enjoy the holidays as much as most people. My dad has put me in charge of making the house more energy efficient. I don't just mean buy some florescent bulbs. I'm going to Baltimore to talk to a company that makes rain water collection systems.

I got a stack of Miyazaki DVDs for Christmas. After years of successfully ducking church, my dad made me go to the Christmas service. Then he talks to me about how I should be more open to god and not be so judgmental. I think he should have said that when I was younger and easier to influence, not when I'm 20. He talk to me about how people take solace in god and that when they lose people it is for his master plan. I don't really care if you believe in God since I doubt I could change your beliefs any more likely than you can change mine. I think life is uncontrolled chaos, there is no plan, and we make our own destinies. I admit though I am open to religion, but nothing really speaks to me now. I have looked into Shintoism which is the traditional religion of the Japanese.

Dozen chapters up, yay. Japan is off to war. JNA is plowing across the Albanian border. It took me a while to look up things on the Albanian military and then I found out they don't have a large one. They have troops, but because they're still transitioning to NATO compatible weapons it doesn't appear that their ground troops are fully equipped currently. Also their current air force consists of really outdated Soviet and Chinese planes mostly predating the 1960s.

Another thing is that Kenji and friends won't be in Europe for a little while because it would probably take two weeks to get ships across the Pacific, through the Panama Canal, across the Atlantic, and to the Greek or Albanian coast.

Much to my shock and annoyance the site I've been using to get information on School Rumble seems to have been shut down. I'm looking for a new one. Mostly I just need something with detailed profiles of the characters. I really need is something that has profiles on the minor characters.

I also found a new site on the Russian military. . It's pretty useful site to me.

don't own any trademark or copywrite item in this story. But how rich I'd be if I own H&K or Lockheed-Martine. Please leave a view.

* * *

**Chapter 13: Last Days of Peace**

"Glory in fleeting, but obscurity is forever."

Napoleon Bonaparte, French Emperor and Military Tactician

**1445 Hours; March 28****th****, 2012; Tokyo University, Tokyo; Tokyo Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Urashima Keitaro exited the lecture hall where he'd been helping his old friend Seta Noriyasu with the final exams. Keitaro had graduated last year, but worked for the university as an assistant to Seta.

Keitaro went into the bathroom, careful to make sure he didn't walk into the wrong one… again. No one had probably ever been so relieved to see urinals. He walked up to one of the stalls and went about his business. Then went to wash his hands. He looked up at the mirror. He smiled at his reflection. The glasses he'd acquired some years ago really did help his appearance. Maybe that was why Seta used the same style. He could still see where a piece of his ear was missing, like a millimeter size tear. That had been a very close call in the Battle of Shinomoseki.

He exited the bathroom and immediately crashed into someone.

'Of course,' he thought. 'And it's probably a girl who is very cute and unnaturally strong who will through me through a window. Well at least I'm only on the third floor.'

"Ow, why you… Urashima?"

"Oh, Motoko-chan. How are you?" asked Keitaro. He stood and helped her up. Aoyama Motoko was in her final year. She had probably been taking her final exam. She was aiming for a law degree (1), but also took Japanese History.

"Okay. You still helping Seta-sensei?"

"Hai. Where are you going now?"

"Maybe get some tea."

"Great, I was off to the café. Want to join me?"

"Ee," nodded Motoko. Motoko was 22-years-old and almost a graduate. She had been 20 at the time of the Korean War, but her older sister had intervened to keep her out of service. Motoko had never quite gotten over that and seemed hurt that Keitaro was the only one in Hinata Inn that had seen battle. Naru had spent most of the war behind a desk before being transferred to the destroyer JFS Chōkai and only had seen one battle. Shinobu had not been old enough at the time, she was 17 then. When she was 18 the Diet and Prime Minister had suspended the draft.

Keitaro checked his watch. He figured Naru would still be teaching at the elementary school she worked at. Naru had left the Navy the moment her enlistment had ended and never looked back. Keitaro didn't criticize, he thought education was important too.

"Suu or Shinobu-chan around?" he asked as the two of them sat down with their cups of tea.

"Suu's exam ended earlier today. Shinobu is probably still in hers," said Motoko.

"So ka. So, Motoko-chan, what are you going to do with your degree?" asked Keitaro.

Motoko frowned. She honestly didn't know quite yet what she wanted to do with her life. She could go home and run the family dojo, use her law degree and join a firm, or even continue her amateur writing career forward.

"Oi, Urashima-sensei," said one of the archeology students. "You should see this."

Keitaro looked around and his eyes widened in shock and horror. He was sitting too far from the TV sitting by a cluster of arm chairs and couches, but he could see the images all too well. There was an NHK reporter on live. He didn't recognize the location, but the caption at the bottom of the screen read 'Reports of Yugoslavian Incursion in Albania'.

Keitaro, almost dreamlike, stood and slowly approached the TV. Motoko followed him wondering why the usual pleasant smile and friendly eyes were replaced by wide eyes of shock and a mouth hanging slightly open.

"Reports are still sketchy, but it appears that there is some kind of incursion going on in the Drin River valley along the Kosovar-Albanian border," said the reporter. There was smoke billowing from a city behind him. A flight of planes flew over the city, but they were too far away to identify them. Explosions that appeared on the ground after they passed over told Keitaro they were probably fighter-bombers.

"Oh dear Kami-sama," said one of the girls.

"The border guards probably got into a fight," said a male student.

"Where is this?" asked another student.

"Wakarimasen (I don't know)," said another.

Keitaro didn't hear any of them. He wasn't even hearing the reporter. In his head he could only hear the roar of fighters, the screech of mortars, the hiss of bullets flying by, the thunder of artillery, and worst of all the screams of the dying.

"Urashima?" Motoko was shaking his arm a little get a reaction, but was failing.

"This isn't some incursion," said Keitaro.

"Nani?"

"This is an invasion."

"Nani?" repeated Motoko.

"This is a place called Kukës," said Keitaro pointing to the caption. "I was there once with Seta. It's at the exit to a valley that leads into Kosovo. This is too far into Albania to by some accident started between border guards."

In his mind he also knew that unless this had been ordered by people in charge then air and artillery support would be denied. The reporter was a safe distance away on a mountain. Light reflecting off Lake Frerzë and since the report was on the east side of a mountain on the west side of the battle meant that the rising sun was making it hard to see. The distance and the visual impairment made it impossible to see who was what, but in Keitaro's mind there was no doubt.

"What the fuck are they thinking," asked Keitaro to himself. Only Motoko heard him.

* * *

**0839 Hours; March 28****th****, 2012 (UCT +2); 5,000 m (16,404.2 ft) above sea level, near Fier; Fier County, Albanian Municipal Airspace**

**Japanese Standard Time (UCT +9): 1639 Hours; March 18****th****, 2012**

British Airways Flight 291 was gently cruising in the early morning sunrise. The captain of the Airbus A319 checked his speed, altitude, course heading, and distance to the next waypoint. As soon as he reached the Adriatic Sea he would change his heading to take him over northern Italy and head straight home to London Gatwick International Airport. British Airways like most airlines that flew to Greece or Turkey usually flew a course to avoid flying over Yugoslavian or Soviet territory, especially after the shooting down of Korean Airlines Flight 007.

He checked his radar. There was Swiss International Airlines flight trailing several kilometers behind him, bound for Zurich. The Swiss flight was just crossing the Greek-Albanian border according to radar. Coming from the opposite direction an Air Berlin flight coming out of Munich bound for Thessaloniki International Airport, the very city that the British Airways flight had left.

"Albanian Control, this is Bravo Alpha Whiskey 291921, we should be entering Central Italy Control. Please confirm, over," said the co-pilot. The captain was letting him handle the radio. He had full confidence the boy could fly and now he waited him to have experience in communications. He had done well and ID'd them correctly as BAW, the international designation for a British Airways flight and given them their ID number.

"Cap'n, I'm not getting Albania. Just static," said the lieutenant. Just as he said that the information provided by radar sites meant to aid commercial pilots went out.

"Bravo Alpha Whiskey 291921, this is Sierra Whiskey Romeo 009123. Come in, over," said the captain of the Swiss airliner.

"Bravo Alpha Whiskey, we hear you Sierra Whiskey Romeo, over," acknowledged the captain. Something was wrong here and he took over the radio from the lieutenant.

"The beacon just went off line and I lost my next waypoint. Air Berlin flight ahead is reporting the same. Do you know what is happening? Over."

"Negative. I can't reach Albanian Control either, over."

"Cap'n, I have something new on radar and its moving fast, sir. Bloody hell, he's coming right at us," said the lieutenant.

The captain looked to side right. He couldn't anything that wasn't in front of or directly to the side of the twin-engine Airbus.

"I see him, sir," said the lieutenant leaning towards the windshield to see out the side. "Jesus, I think it's a military plane."

At that moment a flight attendant knocked. The captain checked a monitor to confirm he knew the attendant, a security measure added to many commercial planes since September 11, even on British planes. He pressed a button to let her in.

"Sidney, the passengers are getting awfully excited. There is a plane and it's military one. The poor thing looks damaged."

Not long after the plane drew level with the captain's line of sight. Like many commercial airline pilots of his generation and his father's he was a former air force pilot. The captain had flown the Lightening F1 in the early 1960s for the RAF (Royal Air Force).

"It's a bloomin' Phantom," said the captain. He remembered when the American F-4 Phantom II had been a new plane in the USAF and USN. The flag on its tail marked it as an Albanian plane.

"Cap'n, he's trying to speak to us," said the lieutenant.

'Trying to' was the correct phrase. The fighter pilot was speaking in rapid frantic Albanian and his radio was cutting out.

"I don't support either of you speaking Albanian?" asked the captain. Both shook their head. The captain shrugged and keyed his mic. "Attention Albanian fighter, this is British Airways Flight 291. Sir, we do not understand you. Do you speak English?"

The answer must have been no since the pilot continued to speak in Albanian.

"Shite, he doesn't understand. Lieutenant, tell the passengers he is a NATO plane and means no harm. Tell them anything. Mary, you know what to do."

"Of course. Serve drinks and keep people from panicking."

"Yes, and bring me a spot of somethin'. I think I'm goin' to need it," said the captain. He keyed the mic again and said, "Albanian pilot, do you speak English? Parlez-vous français (Do you speak French)? Sprechen sie Deutsch (Do you speak German)?"

Suddenly the pilot was flashing something. The captain didn't understand, but then he realized the pilot was sending a flash Morse Code.

"What is that?" asked the lieutenant.

"He's sending a message," said the captain. It was an international message that every pilot and sailor was taught. "Danger, break. Stay away, break. Repeat. Danger, break… he's sending the same message. He wants us to keep away from here. This is mad. William, take controls whist I contact Italy."

"Right-o, Cap'n," said the lieutenant.

"Italian Control, this is Bravo Alpha Whiskey 291921. We have an Albanian Air Force pilot singling for us to stay away. He looks damaged. He might be trying to declare an emergency, but we can't understand him, over."

There was a pause and then. "Bravo Alpha Whiskey 291921, this is Lt. Colonel Donato Giordano, Amendola Air Force Base."

Amendola AFB was an Italian base near Foggia, one of Italy's east provinces that positioned to intercept any planes attempting to cross the Adriatic Sea.

"I hear you, Colonel. This is Sidney Moore, retired RAF. Can you explain why there is a Phantom flying off my nose?"

"Yes, Mr. Moore. Yugoslavia is invading Albania."

"What?!" shouted both the captain and lieutenant.

"We have few details. Yugoslavia is targeting their communication and radar networks."

"Colonel, what is the man saying?" asked the captain.

"He's probably telling you that this airspace is unsafe. Get out of there, Mr. Moore. As fast as you can."

"Thank you, Colonel. We're changing course directly for the coast, out," said the captain.

"Cap'n, the Air Berlin flight is turning around," said the lieutenant. The German airliner was making a hard break for friendlier skies.

Suddenly the Phantom banked hard into a turn away from the aircraft.

"Sir, three new contacts closing fast," said the lieutenant sounding alarmed. The captain couldn't blame him because they were now in a warzone. He looked at the radar. Three blips moving way to fast and too close together to be anything other than fighters. The captain watched the Phantom pilot make a desperate attempt to escape. He dropped flares and chaffs then jinked hard to avoid what was unmistakably a missile. Then a cigar shaped plane with delta wings swept by the Phantom spraying green tracers. Open mouthed the pilot and co-pilot, and everyone sitting on the right side of the plane watched in horror as the Albanian fighter lazily rolled over and then exploded.

"Gawd, what was that?" asked a dumbstruck lieutenant.

"Fishbed. Made in Russia. I remember when those things were still coming off the assembly lines," said the captain. The lieutenant frowned. Just how old was the captain? The MiG-21 was built mostly in the 1960s through 1980s, officially 1959-1985. Over 11,000 were built and most of them were still in reserve with the Soviet Air Force, but not in active service.

Four tracers zoomed past the Airbus's cockpit.

"The fuck is this?!" cried the lieutenant.

"Warning shots," said the captain. "Attention, Yugoslav pilots, this is British Airways Flight 291. Disengage. We are a British flagged airliner. We have civilians on board. Disengage!"

A second volley of warning shots zoomed by the Airbus, but this time he felt a shutter. The instrument panel lit up and started buzzing.

"Cap'n, the number two engine was hit! It's losing power!"

"Shut it down! Redirect all power and fuel to the port engine!"

"Aye, sir," said the lieutenant. He begin to shut down the starboard. He was sweating and breathing hard. The captain pressed the button to release the oxygen masks for the passenger cabins. Through the door he could hear screaming. The captain and lieutenant both pulled on their own masks.

"This is Bravo Alpha Whiskey 291921. We are declaring an emergency," said the captain. "We have been fired upon by fighter aircraft that we can positively identify as Yugoslav Air Force planes. Our number two engine has been shot and we are currently disabling it. We request assistance. Please respond. Anyone."

"All power to the number one engine, sir. And we're over the Adriatic. We should be entering Italian airspace in a moment."

"Good work, William. You're doing fine my boy."

"Thank you, sir… sir?"

"Yes?"

"Has this ever happened to you before?" asked the lieutenant nervously.

"… In 1990 I was flying out of Kuwait for Heathrow. Iraq launched an invasion not long after. They didn't shot at us, but they terrified everyone by flying circles around us. Before that I flew in the Falklands War and was shot at by Argentines. Just stay calm and do not give them a reason to shot us."

"Sir."

"Bravo Alpha Whiskey 291921, this is Lt. Colonel Giordano. Friendly fighters ETA on your position in 2 minutes. Hold your course. Over."

"Roger wilco."

The Yugoslav pilots broke off the moment they detected fully active fire control radars from four Italian F-16Cs.

"Bravo Alpha Whiskey 291921, we see the Italians. Request escort to the nearest airfield, over."

Half an hour later Flight 291 landed at Bari International Airport. Brindisi Airport was closer, but Bari had a larger runway, more emergency staff available, and British Airways didn't operate in Brindisi and it would be easier if there were British Airways staff on site.

The captain, the lieutenant, and the chief flight attendant were the last people off the plane. Much to his surprise the press was already waiting for him as he deplaned. It wasn't the BBC or CNN, but some local agencies that probably only serviced the city of Bari or the whole Bari Province. The captain wondered if they staked out the airport or paid people to inform them of any emergency landings. Someone must have told them since they had English speaking people on site.

"Captain Moore, can you tell us what happen?" asked one bossy sounding reporter.

"No comment," said the captain flatly. 'They know my name?!'

"Is it true you were unprovokedly attack?"

"No comment," he repeated, surprised they found English speaking reporters on such short notice. It was the policy of any corporation, regardless of the type of business or their nation, to not make a statement to the media without prior instructions by someone in charge. It was just good business. Also, and the captain knew this, in this case the news could caused problems. Everyone knew that NATO was going to war with Yugoslavia, but this kind of news could cause things out of control.

"Captain Moore?" said a man in a suit. Moore's ears perked up at the sound of a British accent.

"Yes?"

"O'Donald, from Her Majesty's Consulate," said the man pulling out a handsome leather case with the crown and lion on it, the Royal Coat of Arms. He flipped open the case revealing his ID and a badge. "If you will, we would like a word."

"Of course," said Moore. 'Get me the hell away from these vultures.'

They got into a black car with a small Union Flag (2) flying from the hood.

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing, Mr. O'Donald. It's company policy," said Moore in the way that unique mix of politeness and sternness that the British were so capable of.

"What happened?"

"We were on our normal course on schedule. Everything seemed fine. Then the beacon went out and Albanian Air Traffic Control wouldn't respond to us. We also lost ground radar support. Then that fighter, an F-4, I'm retired RAF so I recognized it at once, it flew next to us and started signaling us. After a while the Yukes showed up and splashed the Phantom. Next thing we knew the bastards were shooting at us and hit us," said Moore.

"Did you do anything to provoke it?"

"No, sir. They didn't any visual or verbal warnings other than the warning shots. We weren't even over Albanian when it happened."

"I see," said O'Donald passively. His mind was working fast. He had to report to SIS (Secret Intelligence Service, MI-6) as soon as possible.

* * *

**0941 Hours; March 28****th****, 2012; Pristina International Airport, Pristina; Pristina Municipality, Republic of Kosovo**

Pilots and ground crews of the JVR (Yugoslav Air Force) could feel the sheer force of the General screams as he berated three pilots.

"What the fuck were you fucking morons thinking?! You shitheads thought it was okay to fire at fucking British airliner without so much as motherfucking warning?!"

The normally mild-tongued man was swearing up a storm that made the most fowl-mouthed soldier in the JNA stare in shock.

"I should have you three shot!"

It was getting steadily worse with each passing sentence… not to mention louder. The pilots were quaking in fear.

"What you did was so fucking stupid!" he roared. "If Belgrade wants to know why a British airliner was nearly shot down I will be sure so send your asses and dicks on a silver platter! Now write a report and be prepared for OZNA to get here!"

There was no movement because the pilots were too scared to move.

"GET TO FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT YOU CLUSTERFUCKS!!!"

They ran.

"Comrade General, are you really going to call the OZNA on them?" asked a lieutenant. The Odelenje za Zastitu NAroda (Department for Protection of the People) was the military intelligence and counter-intelligence wing of Yugoslavia. They had political officers in the armed forces and would sometimes eliminate soldiers who 'displeased' Party doctrine. Military men like the general usually would normally never abandon soldiers to the OZNA, or the UBDA, the Yugoslav secret police, but this was a screw up so large that even the general couldn't picture a better punishment than to let the OZNA do their work.

"I must tell Belgrade at once. They will probably want those men to appear before a special committee of some kind."

"Of course, Comrade General."

* * *

**0400 Hours; March 28****th****, 2012 (UTC -4); Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters, Langley; Commonwealth of Virginia, United States of America**

**Central European Standard Time (UCT +2): 1000 Hours; March 28****th****, 2012**

It looked like a small private movie theater. It had six rows of cushioned folding-chairs that even had drink-holders built in the armrests. There was a large screen in the middle with three smaller screens on each side. On each side of the room there was men and women in suits sitting at an array of monitors, computers, and various other equipment that served to control the screen. The main screen showed a bird's eye view of a valley. Smoke was rising and explosions appeared at random.

This was the live feed from a CIA KH-12 reconnaissance satellite passing over Albania. The top monitor on the right showed the course of the satellite over the Earth's surface. The middle right and bottom right showed news feeds from CNN and MSNBC news coverage of the war. The three left monitors were shifting through a slideshow of photos taken by other satellites from the Navy, Air Force, and National Reconnaissance Office (NRO).

The Director of the CIA, Mark Shepherd, and his deputies and senior chiefs were all watching the screen with stoic expressions, but were completely transfixed.

"This is just west of Fushë-Arrëz," said a chief analyst. "Yugoslav tanks are plowing through the Albanian Type 69s and T-62s aren't fairing well against the M-84. Their infantry are more evenly matched. Yugoslavians use their own version of the AK-47 and the Albanians use both the AK-47 and the Chinese version of it. The few units equipped with H&K G36s were forming a perimeter around their capital.

"They're making a mistake," noted the Deputy Director of Intelligence (3). "The Albanian RRB (Rapid Reaction Brigade) is massing around Tirana. But look."

"Yeah, the YPA (Yugoslav People's Army, or JNA) isn't going for their capital," agreed the Deputy Director of Operations (4). "The invasion force used on Kosovo should have turned south if they wanted Tirana. But their heading west. That'll take them to the coast. It looks like the Yukes are going for the ports."

"Clever bastards," said the Director of the CIA. "Stupid to. This means we go to war with Yugoslavia without the UN resolution."

Albania's sovereignty was not questionable. They had been part of the Warsaw Pact and an ally of the Soviet Union at one time, but the Kosovo War had made the Albanians anti-Yugoslavian and by association the Albanians came to hate the Yugoslavian's ally the Soviets. Despite the break with the USSR the Soviets could not reasonably deny that Albania was a country like they did with Kosovo. It meant that NATO was now at war with Yugoslavia and the terms and restrictions of UN resolution didn't apply anymore.

"If they're going for the ports then their plan must be to keep us out of the Balkans," said a section chief. "So we can't use the ports."

"Should we tell the Albanians?" asked another chief.

"Would it matter?" asked Director Shepherd. He doubted the Albanians had the means to defend those ports that NATO had planned on using to offload their troops in and then use Albania as an assembly point for their task force.

"Can the Italians provide air support?"

"Negative, sir. Too much AA. Sat pictures show lots of Gainfuls, Gaskins, and M59 Pragas. Just too many SAMs and Triple-As."

"Great," groaned the DDI.

"Director," called one of the technicians seated on the side of the room. "DIA wants to know if we're seeing this and if we've told the President yet. They also want us to know they're calling an emergency briefing with the Joint Chiefs and EUROCOM."

'So military intel is already ringing up the brass,' thought Shepherd. "Tell them we haven't yet, but we will be calling her as soon as we have are facts straight. Oh and ask them what the Europeans know."

"Sir," said the technician. "… they say that the YPA Air Force attacked a British Airways plane and the Europeans are raising hell. The British press just released the story and now their people are screaming for blood."

"Jesus Christ, was anyone killed?" asked the DDO.

"Negative. But British are still pissed."

"Someone put a call in to Vauxhall Cross," said Director Shepherd rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. He wondered what was going on at SIS HQ. "Might as well call our friends at DGSE and BND while we're at it."

* * *

**0420 Hours; March 28****th****, 2012; Defense Intelligence Analysis Center, Bolling Air Force Base; Washington DC, United States of America**

Officially, the Defense Intelligence Agency's (DIA) HQ is in the Pentagon with the US Armed Forces HQ. But the Defense Intelligence Analysis Center in reality works more like the DIA's HQ, even though their director was at the Pentagon. It is their largest building and has more of their personnel than any other one location.

The DIA served at the major military intelligence and counter-intelligence wing of the Department of Defense. DIA worked in hot competition with the CIA in foreign intelligence and with the FBI for counter-intelligence. Much to the CIFA's outrage the decision was made in 2008 to shutdown the CIFA and absorb it into the DIA. The transition of CIFA personnel and operations was still underway and the DIA was being overwhelmed by the volume of files pouring out of the military counter-intelligence agency. Considering the agency had been created in 2002 it was shocking how much the CIFA had grown.

The more immediate concern was that three divisions were pouring across the Albanian border.

"So we can't attack across the Italian land border," said a section chief passing around satellite photos of the heavily fortified Italian-Yugoslav border. "Originally we thought the increase of activity along that border was the JNA's response to the UN mandate, but now it seems it was to cover their flank."

"And they have their southern flank covered so the Greeks probably can't attack through Macedonia," said another section chief.

"God damn," groaned DDH (Deputy Director of Directorate for Human Intelligence).

"NSA is sending us some chatter between Pristina and Belgrade," said a technician. The National Security Agency (NSA) was another Department of Defense intelligence agency. NSA specialized in encryption and security of the DoD's files, computer files, and communications. They also specialized in hacking and de-encryption of the enemy systems, code breaking, communication interceptions, and other electronic warfare fields.

"And?" asked DIA Director Dennis Remarque.

"It's ONZA. Their talking about court marshaling pilots. Probably those pilots that attacked the Brit plane. They're going to relay that to SIS," said the tech.

"Okay. So we tall the Joint Chiefs that Albanian resistance is collapsing. Most of their troops are being forced into three major pockets. One at Tirana. The second at Durrës, their largest port. And the last is forming along the Mal i Gribës Mountains in the south to protect their two southern ports and a corridor into Greece. When do we expect these pockets to collapse?" asked Director of Directorate for Intelligence Joint Staff, the man who briefed the Joint Chiefs, preparing this depressing report for the Joint Chiefs of Staff who he'd been reporting to at 0500.

"We think the JNA will ignore the Albanian capital for now and push for Durrës. We expect Durrës to fall by the end of the day. If the Yugoslav's keep it up they should be in artillery range in the next two or three hours. The JNA hasn't reached the Albanian's southern line but that should change before lunch, our time. We think the Albanians are spread too thin their and probably fall back to Sarandë, their most southern port," said Director of the Directorate for Analysis.

"Any chance Greece can intervene?" asked Director Remarque.

"Doesn't seem likely. Greece expects a similar kind of attack on themselves so their fortifying their own borders. Italy doesn't want to risk their planes through a relative wall of SAMs and 23 Mike-Mikes. And the Navy has the Enterprise's group escorting the evacuation of civilians from Albania."

The USS Enterprise was patrol along a shipping lane being used by ferries that were evacuating Albanians to Italy. The Enterprise's air wing was escorting airliners traveling between Greece and Western Europe who were flying a more southern route to avoid being near Albania or Yugoslavia.

"Okay. Well I'm off to the Pentagon," said the DDIJS. "They're going to love this."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on anyone. The Joint Chiefs were going to blow their stacks when they heard the war had started before they were even ready to deploy.

* * *

**0420 Hours; March 28****th****, 2012; Main Terminal, Union Station; Washington DC, United States of America**

Jamie Shinhachi watched as the main departure board. The first trains usually left at 3 am, but Union Station never really closed with trains coming from the south, northeast, and Midwest. His eyes were locked on the Capitol Limited, an Amtrak train whose terminuses were Washington DC Union Station and Chicago Union Station. There had been other train stations that had been opened in Washington, but one that still remained and still used had been opened in 1908. The station had been opened as a joint terminus for the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad and the Pennsylvania Railroad. Today the station was owned Amtrak and used as their HQ.

Jamie Shinhachi sat by a generic black suitcase with a telescoping handle and a black backpack computer case. He wore a black suit with red tie. A black tie would have made it too obvious he was probably a Fed. He had been reassigned to a joint NATO task force. The fact he'd been personally selected by someone in Seattle told him exactly who requested him. The rest of Jamie's things were already being shipped west by truck.

The board showed that the Capitol Limited was on Track #12. Despite the hour there were many people in the station waiting for the first trains of the day. Most were business men and women heading to New York on the Acela Express or Northeast Regional. Others were heading south to Miami on the Silver Star or New Orleans on the Crescent. Jamie and others still were heading to Track #12 to board the Capitol Limited #30 bound for Chicago. It would be an 18 hour trip and then he'd change trains to the Empire Builder bound for Seattle, a 46 hour trip. Three days riding two different trains, but Jamie preferred rail travel. It was more comfortable than planes. Passengers in coach had the same amount of room as a first-class cabin on an airliner. Plus there was an outlet for a computer and the food was far more eatable.

Two General Electric P42DC Genesis diesel-electric engines sitting in front of a string of double-decker Superliner II series passenger cars. Jamie saw some Amtrak employees loading bags into the baggage car that was directly behind the second engine. The train was set up in a pretty standard form with the baggage car behind the engines, the passenger cars next, the diner car after the passenger cars, and the sleeper cars last. Passengers getting off at earlier stations like Harpers Ferry or Pittsburgh would load at the back near the dining car and the passengers like Jamie who were riding closer to the terminus loaded at the front. This was done so Amtrak could prioritize the passengers who would get off first and catch people who would sneak onboard without tickets and get off at the next stop.

Shortly after the train started to pull out of the station an old woman in the dark blue suit and trousers and kepi (5) with the Amtrak insignia on it walked down the aisle. She took Jamie's ticket and punched a hole in it. Then she pulled out a card, wrote on CHI, the Amtrak shorthand for Chicago, Illinois. She placed it in a slot above Jamie's seat showing where he would get off.

Jamie checked inside his jacket. The SIG Sauer P-229 was secure in a shoulder holster where no one would see it. Even if they did Jamie had an NCIS badge to explain why he had a concealed weapon. Jamie's officially worked as a liaison with NCIS for Marine Corps Intelligence Activity (MCIA). This gave him an excuse to travel to any Marine or Navy base or USN ship belonging to the US. It even gave him an excuse to visit embassies and consulates which had Marine guards. Jamie could go to a wide variety of locations under the excuse of being surprise inspections. It also gave Jamie a federal agent's status and allowed him to travel on planes and trains with a gun. He could even arrest people, but that was a power he didn't use.

To the people who knew about him, very few knew who Jamie actually worked for. His file showed he'd done work for just about every agency. The reason was because Jamie was a rare kind of agent. He was a trained field agent for black ops and lethal action. He was trained for snatch & grabs, assassinations, sabotage, stealing foreign secrets, and a few other things. Jamie had been selected with 30 other people by the MCIA, but only 8 had graduated. Jamie suspected that other agencies had their own 'graduating classes', but he never saw them. It wasn't his place to know. Jamie didn't even know the names of his instructors and only knew to names of two of the people he graduated with. Jamie guessed that there were probably less than 200 people between all 16 agencies that were trained like him. It sounded like a lot of people at first, but when one considered how many countries there were in the world and how many places there were enemies of the United States then the number seemed alarmingly low. Many people thought there were legions of trained black ops agents with their own air forces and navies, but it wasn't true. It wasn't even practical. Most of the time the CIA or some agency would hand select a few soldiers from the military and specially train them for a mission and then when it was over they disbanded the unit with orders to never speak of what they did.

Since there weren't a lot of agents like Jamie in the US, or even in the Soviet Union or China for that matter, the agencies would share their agents. There just weren't enough of them and to maintain their high standards and secrecy they refused to pass additional agents. So agents working for one agency would find themselves doing jobs for other agencies. It was a basic Quid Pro Quo. Jamie had once been ordered by his bosses at the MCIA to blown up a KGB safehouse for the CIA. In return the CIA would allow Jamie to take anything he found there to the MCIA and they would not have to share it.

As they rolled through the breathtaking Shenandoah River Valley Jamie pulled down his fedora hat over his eyes and went to sleep.

"_You have an impressive record Master Gunnery Sergeant," said a captain as they walked down a windowless corridor. The captain wore the olive-drab B-class uniform that officers of the Marine Corps wore. Jamie had a khaki tunic and blue trousers with a red stripe up the side, which was worn by enlisted soldiers and NCOs._

"_Thank you, sir. But with all due respect I am a First Sergeant," corrected a younger Jamie Shinhachi. His eyes had a wariness about them, but a sharpness that they didn't usually have. His voice was hoarse and a little strained, but he didn't stutter. Jamie never stuttered when he was in uniform. He had never been more comfortable than when he was a Marine._

"_You've been promoted. And we have a new task for you, son. If you accept that is," said the captain as he reached the end of the corridor. He punched in a combination and ran a keycard through a slot. The LED light when from red to green and there was a beep as the door unlocked._

"_After you."_

"_Thank you, sir"_

_Jamie saw the room he was in was full of marines. Some were officers, but most NCOs like himself. He saw no one was lower than Gunnery Sergeant. He saw in a second that everyone in the room was experienced. Most were young._

"_Ladies and gentlemen, you have been called here for your outstanding skills and command has something special in mind for you. Keep in mind this will be a dangerous and highly classified assignment. Anyone who wants to leave… well there's the door," said a major. Jamie suspicions mounted. He had a good idea what this was, though not what it was for specifically. No one left and the major grinned maliciously._

"_As I thought. We are the Few! The Proud! The Marines!"_

"_Oo-rah!" shouted everyone in one booming voice._

"_You will be called by number for individual interviews. Have a seat until you are called."_

_The scene dissolved into blackness and reformed. He was in a small room with a desk and file cabinets, like an office. There were no windows and no clocks. There were no personal items on the desk other than an American flag. There was no indication of the time or where they were._

"_You are 18?" asked a captain, different from the first one._

"_Yes, sir," answered Jamie._

_The captain seemed shocked by Jamie's file. "You are almost 19. You graduated high school at 15 and college before your 18 birthday?"_

"_Yes, sir," said Jamie a little bitterly. "I had no friends. I just studied all the time and I wanted to get the hell away from that place."_

"_You're major was foreign language and history," said the captain. "And your attending graduate school."_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_You are an unusually smart man. How smart would you say?" asked the captain._

_Jamie's mouth moved a little upwards. Almost the shadow of a smile. "I'm smart enough to guess what this is about, smart enough not to ask, and smart enough to not to say anything."_

_The captain was once again taken by surprise by the Master Gunnery Sergeant. "So tell. What do you think?"_

"_Black ops of some kind. There is no one here lower than gunnery sergeant, so everyone here has experience. Everyone here has badges for either expert marksmanship, close combat, or both. The oldest people here are old enough to be First Gulf War veterans, so the age spread is young. I saw the people next to me were combat engineers, useful for sabotage, right? You have radio ops from Force Recon. Snipers like me. Also, I spoke with people here and they all speak more than three languages," observed Jamie._

_The captain was shocked, again. Shinhachi had guessed right on all points, but missed something. Jamie thought it would be a task force that would be assembled for a specific mission and then let go, but Jamie had failed to notice that there were no medics, riflemen, or heavy weapons specialists. These people were here to be the next generation of agents and the captain already knew Jamie would be one of them. Jamie was perfect for the job. He had no friends and hardly a connection with his family. He spoke over 30 languages and his history major taught him much of the skills he needed to blend in with other cultures._

_At first the training seemed pretty consistent with the mission Jamie was expecting, but when it had been narrowed down to only 15 recruits the training had changed. They realized they were being trained to be field agents._

_Jamie looked around him. There were only 7 others left. He was almost 20 now. He had not seen anyone for a year that wasn't part of this unit. He only knew the names of three people. Two of them were instructors and Jamie suspected they weren't their real names. The other had been a Force Recon marine like Jamie, only she had been a demolitionist. Her name was First Sergeant Emily Maria Lopez. She had no family._

"_Congratulations everyone. You have completed your training. From this day forth, you will be field agents of the Marine Corps Intelligence Activity," said the major. Even though they had guessed it, it was the first time it had been confirmed who they were working for. Jamie was given his assignment to work with NCIS. That was the official orders. The real orders were to use the guise of a federal agent to explain his presence on government facilities._

Jamie awoke. It was about 9 am and he decided to get breakfast. He remembered that day. A little over two years ago he was sent to the US Embassy in Czechoslovakia as an inspection of the guards operations. In actuality he was there to locate and capture a KGB agent. He and Lopez had captured the agent before the end of the week. He had worked with her the most.

'It'll be good to see Saito," he thought. He pulled out his laptop and popped in a DVD. He watched one of his favorite movies, The Truman Show starring Jim Carrey. The story of a man who is unknowingly the star of a TV show.

* * *

**1505 Hours; March 30****th****, 2012; Yagami North Elementary School, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

People stared at the delinquent-looking man learning against the gate post at the front entrance. Kenji had to admit the change in hair-style from his high school days helped. He'd been standing there for 20 minutes and no one had called the police yet.

As students filed out they made sure to keep some distance, except one.

"Nii-san?"

"Hey, Shuuji," said Kenji waving at his younger brother casually. "Got plans?"

"Ie."

"Want to hang out?"

Shuuji looked a little surprised, but smiled. "Hai."

Kenji and Shuuji raced for Yagami JR East Station on his motorcycle. Then transferred to a train bound for Yokohama. They took the Yokohama subway to Nissan Stadium, the largest stadium in Japan, had hosted the 2002 FIFA World Cup match between Germany and Brazil, and home to the Yokohama F Marinos.

"How'd you pay for this?" asked Shuuji looking the tickets for the match between J-League Division I teams Yokohama F Marinos and Sanfrecce Hiroshima.

"Oka-chan," said Kenji. "Speaking of her."

"Kenji, Shuuji!" called a 50 year-old woman.

Harima Kaori, senior member of the Japanese Federal Central Bank, had access to the Central Bank's private box.

They watched as the Yokohama players stormed the field to tumultuous applauses and a booming course of the team's song.

Kenji watched the match with his mother and brother. It had been some time since the three of them had spent time together as a family. He tried not to show any concern about the news of the invasion of Albania and that a war was escalating in Europe. The Japanese had been talking about, but few understood its purpose or significance. Even most Westerners didn't realize the tactical situation it placed NATO in. Most civilians wrote it off as Yugoslavia wanting to take over the world or something, but only those who knew something of tactics and European geography understood it the ramifications. NATO would have to launch all of its troops out of Greece or launch an amphibious invasion of Albania. Neither was an appealing situation.

Shuuji excused himself to go to the bathroom.

"How's he in school?" asked Kenji.

"Good. He and Mai will be attending the same junior high school," said Kaori.

"They haven't spend a lot of time together. Do you think he'll be okay with her?" asked Kenji. He felt a little guilty. Shuuji was his brother, but Kenji had not spent a lot of time with him over the years. Kenji lived him Mai, his adopt sister. He spent more time with her than his blood-brother.

"… I don't know," said Kaori slowly. "I hope they'll get along. But let's talk about you."

"What about me?" asked Kenji. In all honestly he wasn't sure which thing it could be. Going to Europe to fight a war or proposing to Yakumo, something his mother had been told a month in advance about.

"Yakumo. The Army."

"Yakumo and I won't be getting married for a while. We both know it. It'll have to wait until after I get back. Frankly, we think it'll be over before we get there. Or that's what I hear people say," said Kenji. Kenji suspected he'd get to Europe and do some fighting. But he personally thought it be over in a couple of weeks and then head home. Kenji had not been on a base recently to hear the less optimistic talk since the JNA stormed Albania.

"Yakumo and were thinking of trying a more Western style wedding. I think Sarah-chan talked her into it. But we've pretty much decided on holding it at the church. When is a matter of when I get home," he said. He honestly didn't think it was a matter of 'if' he got home.

Shuuji returned. Kaori excused herself to let Kenji speak with him.

"Hey, Shuuji."

"Hey, Nii-san. Ii gamu, nee (Great game, isn't it)?"

"Gomenasai," he blurted out.

"Eh?"

"I haven't spent much time with you, have I?"

"Ii yo (It's fine)," Shuuji dismissed.

"So ka? Does it bother you I spend more time with Mai?"

"Betsu ni (Not really)," said Shuuji. He hadn't thought about it much. Kenji had been absent from his life that it didn't seem like a big deal. "Is this because we're going to the same school now?"

"Uh, sore of," said Kenji.

"You want us to get along?" asked Shuuji. "Look she's a stranger to me and it is kinda' weird, but I don't hate her or anything. I won't pick on her or anything. I promise."

"Good. Because I think she could kick your ass," said Kenji honestly.

"No way!" laughed Shuuji.

"I think she could," snorted Kenji.

"I can take her and you at the same time," he said grinning.

Kenji pulled him into a headlock and gave him a noogy. "You think you're so tough little man?!"

Kaori had returned to the room only to find her two sons wrestling and laughing. She decided to let them be for a few more minutes.

* * *

**0700 Hours; March 31****st****, 2012; Seireitei Apartments, Karakura; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Hitsugaya Tōshirō was setting down pancakes on the kitchen table. The apartment was a nice one considering it was paid for on two officers' salaries. There were two rooms and a bathroom. One bedroom and one kitchen/dining room/living room. Above the TV in the living room half of the first room were two pictures. One picture of a group of soldiers, mostly NCOs and officers, gathered around a destroyed Chinese tank. Hitsugaya was standing center with the surrounded by his platoon leaders. The others were either sitting in the front row or were sitting on the tank. It had been taken after they took Seoul. The other photo showed a picture of a group of people in dark navy-blue uniforms on a dock with a large carrier behind them.

One of the people in that photo emerged from the bedroom, but in a white uniform. She was securing the bulk of her long brown hair under a cloth with a peaked officer's cap tucked under her arm. Near the ends of her sleeves were one stripe and a half-stripe, making a Lieutenant JG with the single silver bar on her shoulder.

"Ohayo, Shiro-chan," greeted Momo in her usually bubbly way.

"Must you call me that?" asked Tōshirō.

"You made pancakes," she said smiling sweetly. She didn't want to argue today.

"I thought I make you something special," he said with a weak smile. He picked up on the significance of her change of subject. Tōshirō ate in a T-shirt and boxers while Momo was in full uniform.

They made small talk for a while. Neither had much to say. That'd covered most topics yesterday.

Tōshirō got dressed. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt. He grabbed his keys and he and Momo headed out the door. The climbed into Tōshirō's car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Momo had tuned the radio to a local station that was playing old Do As Infinity hits. She hummed along to Oasis while Tōshirō drive on towards the station. All too soon for their liking they reached Karakura JR East Station.

He parked in the station's garage and took her duffel bag while Momo shouldered military rucksack. Tōshirō wondered why the sack was camouflage when the Navy spent all their time on bases or ships. Momo took a seat on a thinly padded bench. A west bound train was just departing for Yagami. The station was quiet for a bit. Karakura wasn't a large town. There were a couple of stations, but all the express trains bypassed all but the main one.

"You have anything?" Tōshirō asked after several minutes.

"I think so," said Momo. She watched him pace back and forth. "We aren't going to be that far from each other when you think about it. You'll be on a transport and I'll be on a carrier part of the same fleet."

He nodded. The PA system announced the approach of an east bound train for Yokohama. A screen above their heads corroborated this by showing them the estimated arrival time and informing them to stand behind the yellow safety line.

A horn blared as the lead car of the train rounded the bend for the station. The rails hummed louder as the train got closer. Sparks shot out from the pantograph (6) as it hit a cross section of wire. The breaks squeaked as the train sailed into the station coming to a gentle stop.

"Dozo (here)," said Tōshirō handing her duffle over. He couldn't go any further. Momo kissed him gently on the lips and smiled.

"Don't worry. The carrier is the safest ship in the fleet," she said. She didn't say it was also the most important and threatening ship and therefore the most targeted.

"I'll miss you," said Tōshirō. He couldn't think how best to put his feelings in words. He hugged. She felt so small in his arms. He took one last whiff of shampoo she used that morning to wash her hair. Tōshirō released her and kissed her before she boarded the train. The warning toned sounded and the doors closed. They took one last look at each other as the train pulled out of the station gaining speed.

Half an hour later he was back at their apartment. It was too quiet. He sat on their bed watching NHK World News. His side of the room was its usual neatness. Momo's side showed signs of attempted neatness, but there were books, magazines, shirts, bras, and skirts tossed aside. He laughed. Momo was a good at cooking and laundry, but not at cleaning. He usually cleaned the dishes and folded the laundry. He didn't pick it up. Her mess made it seem less like she was gone.

The news was showing an angry mob marching around Trafalgar Square in London screaming for the British Parliament to take immediate military action against Yugoslavia. The leaders of the rally were standing in front massive pillar with statue of British naval hero Lord Vice Admiral Horatio Nelson (7). It changed to a similarly looking mob of Germans marching in front of the historic Brandenburg Gate in Berlin. The scene changed to showing more calm looking people in the European Union Parliament discussing the matter.

Tōshirō watched with interest at Italian and Albanian flagged ships ferrying people across the Adriatic Sea with Oliver Hazard Perry Class frigates of the US Navy. There was even news footage of a Yugoslavian J-22 being shot down by American F-14s. The reporter said it was the first shots fired by the United States.

Tōshirō sighed. He changed into some better looking cloths and headed for his car again. He couldn't stand being home alone right now. He drove off to Yagami. He was in the mood for familiar faces and Chinese food.

* * *

**1500 Hours; March 30****th****, 2012 (UTC +9); mountains, Cërrik; Elbasan County, Republic of Albania**

Pekkan was learning against a tree near a creek. She was watching Meksi cleaning off various roots he'd found in the woods south of the crossroad town of Cërrik. She had to admit this farmboy from the north was useful. Being from the north he could speak and read Serbian. And being raised on a farm he knew what you could and couldn't eat.

She had long ago given up on trying to locate Sgt. Ruli. The sniper had slipped away, but he'd done this before and he would be back.

Before the invasion of Albania had started the three of them had gotten new equipment and uniforms. Unfortunately they had not been able to locate her battalion.

"Here," said Meksi handing her the roots and wild onions he'd been cleaning. He took a bit without hesitation. She looked at it speculatively. "You need to eat, Umut."

She frowned at him. "Why do you use my first name?"

Meksi shrugged. "Do you dislike your name?"

"No," she said defensively. "It's a very nice name. It's Turkish. It means hope."

"Which we need," pointed out Meksi. He looked past her. "He's back."

She looked around to see Ruli returning. He tossed Meksi a folded up map. "Read it."

Meksi flipped it open. "Uh, they're using codes and numbered designations. Cërrik is marked KA1019."

He was quiet for a while. "They circled all of the major crossroad towns and our port cities."

"I see," said Ruli. "Pekkan, send message via Morse."

"Sir," she said turning on her radio. She pulled out the keyer for sending Morse code messages. "Standing by."

"Send to Albanian Command. Sgt. Ruli, Kosovar Army, break. Captured enemy map, break. Indicated targets are not capital, break. Defend the ports, break. Standing by, break."

They waited for nearly an hour.

"Sergeant, I'm getting a response," called Pekkan. "AAA, AAA, AAA, break (8). Sgt. Ruli of Kosovar Army, we are aware of situation, break. Please keep us updated, break. Out."

Ruli contemplated the message. The Albanians knew already? He wondered if their intelligence was better than he had expected… or more likely the Americans had told them. The Americans were useful allies. Maybe not always loyal or reliable allies, but useful if one knew how to work with them.

'So the Yankees are providing intelligence, but not combat support,' thought Ruli. Ruli wondered what had happened to that one American battalion in the Balkans. It had once been a brigade, but most had been sent to Afghanistan, Germany, or Korea, places where the Americans feared Communist aggression. Ruli didn't know that the American battalion was in Greece waiting for the elements of US 4th Infantry Division and the US 2nd Marine Expeditionary Force to reinforce them. Ruli also didn't know the USS Enterprise was in range, but was unable to support him.

* * *

**0809 Hours; April 1****st****, 2012; Kure Peninsula, Kure; Hiroshima Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Kure was a city located the southern part of the Hiroshima Prefecture on the Seto Inland Sea. They were not on the main Sanyō Shinkansen Line that went between the major terminals of Shin-Osaka to Hakata on Kyushu.

It was sort of a backwater region if not for the major ship yards the Japanese had built over a century ago. Kure was on the western end of the Seto Inland Sea which protected it from tsunamis and typhoons. It was also strategically positioned to protect the vital port of Hiroshima. In the days of the Imperial Japanese Navy the yards at Kure had produced the legendary battleship Yamato, who met its tragic end at the hands of US Naval Air Force during the Battle of Okinawa.

Kure was still a major naval base to the Japanese Federal Navy and home of the 4th Fleet. The Japanese 4th Fleet was mostly the same as it had been under the Maritime Self-Defense Forces. The 4th Fleet did not have carriers or cruisers. Most of its fleet was frigates and corvettes for local patrol. Most its warships were trained for ASW (anti-submarine warfare) duty and sweeping for mines. They also commanded most of the auxiliary ships like oilers, ocean going tugboats, underway replenishing ships, and cargo ships. Although they weren't the offensive arm of the Navy, the 4th was probably the most important, especially for what the 2nd Fleet was going to do.

Captain Nara was taking up a bunch of new pilots up for the last time before he would be deployed to Europe. He was flying down the Seto and watching the activities. A month ago there had only been a couple of small patrol boats active in the sea. A week ago Nara had seen some frigates screening the yard. Now Nara saw that the carrier JFS Ryūhō, a cruiser, and two destroyers were anchored near the entrance to Hiroshima Bay with frigates stationed further out. Nara had also spotted P-3C Orions flying low over the water hunting for submarines.

Security may have seen unnecessarily tight for some, but the Japanese thought some of their neighbors were getting too nosy. A Soviet Tu-22M had flown over Hokkaido and was chased by Japanese interceptors who refused to allow the plane to return to Russia. To the shock of the Japanese the plane flew south to Honshu passing over Sendai, Tokyo, and Yokosuka. After flying over the Yokosuka Naval Base the Japanese government had ordered the plane shot down. Backfire was hit and forced to make a landing at Sagamihara Air Force Base.

It had been the first time Nara had seen Soviet pilots in person. The pilot wore a dark-blue flight suit. On his shoulders were a gold patch with black trim and three silver stars forming a triangle. Nara was told his was Senior Lieutenant. The co-pilot's rank was marked with a black patch with two silver stars, a warrant officer. The other two crewmen had black rank insignias with a three gold strips marking them as Starshina 1st Class, petty officers. The Starshinas also had a two letters on their rank insignias: TФ (Тихоокеанский флот), or TF (Tikhookeanskiy Flot; Pacific Fleet). They were airmen of the Soviet Pacific Fleet. Nara did not get a good look at their faces and was not encouraged to do so by military intelligence officers who spoke to everyone who say the plane or crew. The interrogation revealed that the Soviets had panicked when Japanese fighters appeared and flew south to escape. Some, however, thought it was a defection. The four Soviet pilots had requested asylum on the grounds that their error would mean their execution if they were sent home. Coincidentally, none of the pilots had family or loved-ones back home… maybe too much of a coincidence. They had disappeared from the base that night.

Nara would never seen them again or the plane. The plane was being taken apart in an undisclosed location by analysts eager to see a Soviet supersonic maritime plane. The Tupolev Tu-22M was a strategic swept-wing bomber, similar to the later American B-1 Lancer. Although made to deploy nuclear missiles the Backfire mostly was used for reconnaissance by both the Soviet Navy and Air Force. They also were used by the Soviet Navy as an anti-ship missile platform. The Japanese were very pleased to see how far ahead of the Soviets they were and were even more pleased to see a codebook and a machine to de-encrypt messages. The Soviet naval airmen were less useful. They were sent to Okinawa where they could be isolated in case they were KGB agents and this was a very elaborate plan to sneak into Japan. Also the presence of foreigners was less suspicious in Okinawa. The Naicho and CIA were trying to squeeze what information they could before they would be sent to the United States to live.

Nara turned his plane northward in a slow curve. It would take over the west side of Hiroshima Bay. He saw lots of vehicle cargo transports. There were trucks, tanks, artillery, helicopters, and stacks of containers lined up along the ships. The vehicles, munitions, and equipment were being loaded now. When the crews and infantry arrived next week they could set sail in a matter of hours.

Nara turned east and skirted the limits of Hiroshima. He was taking the pilots back to Sagamihara. Some would be transferred to the small squadron flying out of Tsushima, others would be sent to fill in empty slots in bases on Shikoku, most would be sent to Hokkaido to discourage unwanted Soviet intrusions.

Nara looked down on the mountains of the Okayama Prefecture. He realized this would be one of the last times he would be flying over his home country for a while. The rest of the week the mechanics would be working on squadron's planes. For safety's sake it sounded like a good idea, but Nara wondered how much work the brand-new F-15G Super Eagles that had only come off Mitsubishi's assembly line a few months earlier.

Nara was left to his thoughts as he flew home. He and so many other men and women would be going to meet the enemy to the west.

* * *

**0600 Hours; April 5****th****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Kenji brought his hand down on top of his alarm clock. He had fallen asleep at the table in the middle of his room. He looked around and saw Yakumo was gone. She'd been helping him finish up a volume late into the night. He could hear the rush of water going through pipes and guessed she was in the shower.

Kenji stood and stretched. In the corner of his room was a duffle and rucksack. A set of flecktarn trouser and tunic was laid out next to his combat boots with a field cap. When he got to a base he would be reissued his helmet, vest, and primary weapon. The helmet had a radio which wasn't support to leave base, the vest belonged to the Army, and Japanese law didn't allow automatic weapons in the hands of the public.

He heard the water stop. He waited for Yakumo to get out of the bathroom. A minute past and he heard her footsteps in to hall. Kenji took a quick shower, shaved, and brushed his teeth. He returned to his room passing Mai and Tenma who were waiting for a turn. Tenma, never a morning person, had fallen asleep and Mai quietly snuck past her and locked the bathroom door behind her. Tenma awoke when she heard squeak of the shower being turned on. The elder Tsukamoto pounded on the door yelling and throwing a tantrum. She calmed down and sulked by the time Kenji reached his room.

It was a Saturday, but there were a number of Japanese schools that had classes six days a week. Yagami Junior High was one of them, but Saturday classes only lasted until lunch and then concluded for the day. Today was the first day of middle school for Mai. Kenji would be taking her to school and he wanted to look good… or not be mistaken for a criminal. He pulled on his blue trousers and white button-up shirt. It had service ribbons attached and his Order of the Sacred Treasure. This was the B-class uniform. He topped it by putting on a service cap (9). It was dark-blue with a black rim and a thin gold stripe wrapped around the band of the cap and a gold chrysanthemum on the front. On his shoulders were the rank insignia for a private first class, on his left soldier the insignia of the 6th Infantry Division, and on the right was the Japanese flag.

Kenji descended the stairs to the little dining room. Yakumo was finishing setting the table. Kenji kissed her on the check and took a seat. He turned on the news and watched the morning report. There were the usual updates about local and national news. Reports about a local sports team. Warnings about construction that may cause delays to commuters. A report about a power outage caused by a drunk driver crashing into a telephone pole with a transformer mounted on it. A report about Nikkei going down a few points yesterday. The only unusual report was about a Russian spy plane that was shot down after it flew deep into Japanese air space and refusing to acknowledge the Japanese interceptors. The plane was reported destroyed and none of its crews were found alive.

International news about the Dow Jones making its slow recovery from the past 10 years. BMW announced a release of a new car. France was passing new legislation regarding the wearing of burqa by Muslim women. It was followed by reports of protests and riots in France. Kenji and Yakumo were a little disconcerted to hear that angry protests were common in France.

Mai entered in her school uniform. She had on the winter uniform with the longer sleeves, typically worn by Japanese students in eastern and northern Japan. Students in southern Japan were never issued winter uniforms for obvious reasons.

"Nervous?" asked Kenji.

"Chotto (A little)," answered Mai.

"Daijobou desu yo," assured Yakumo with a smile.

Tenma walked in and leaned in close to Mai glaring. "I was first for the shower."

"Gomen, Nee-san," answered Mai. It was hard not to laugh. Tenma's attempts to look intimidating tended to be more comical than frightening. "But I wanted to be prepared for my first day of school."

Tenma glared at her still and then pulled her into a hug. "Awww, kawaii! I remember when Yakumo-chan started junior high. She did the same thing to me."

"You did?" Kenji asked Yakumo while Tenma continued her trip down memory lane.

"Ie. I think Nee-san is confused again," said Yakumo.

Mai managed to eat some, but was feeling too queasy to eat. Kenji and her walked out the front door.

They took the train to northwestern Yagami where Yagami Junior High School was located. The station was located in a plaza surrounded by various businesses, mostly restaurants and small shops. There was also a police box manned by at least three officers. One was standing outside the box and gave Kenji a smile and two-finger salute when he walked by. Kenji returned the smile and a proper military salute with his arm at a 45-degree angle and his palm not exposed towards the officer (10).

Kenji noted that upstanding citizens would smile at him. With the uniform he was thought of as soldier. Without it he was a delinquent. They walked to the school with a wave of other students. Some wore uniforms different from Mai's and others wore the same one. Kenji saw there were parents walking with their kids and some had cameras out.

The school was a pretty typical Japanese design for a modern city school. It was three-stories high, the main entrance had a clock over it and was a little taller than the rest of the building. Kenji guessed behind the school was a track and field. There was a gym on one side too and, although he couldn't see it from the main gate, there was a pool too. The school principle, a man in his late 50s, was standing just past the gate with his secretary and some teachers greeting the new students.

"Okay, Mai-chan," said Kenji getting down on one knee so he would be almost at eye-level with her. He dusted off her shoulders and straightened out her tie. "You have a good day. You already have friends here, but try to make some new ones too. Enjoy your time here."

Mai nodded. She was getting close to tears. She knew her brother never really attended junior high and he wanted her to enjoy what he had missed. She also knew he wanted her to be happy in case… something bad happened to him.

He hugged her. "I'll pick you up after school, okay?"

"Hai," she said. Mai took a deep breath and began walking into the grounds to the gym for the entrance ceremony.

"Is that you're daughter?"

"Eh?" Kenji turned to see woman in her late 20s or early 30s. "Ie, boku no imoto-chan desu (No, my little sister)."

"Ah, so ka. Onamae wa (Her name)?"

"Harima Mai," said Kenji.

"Honto? I'm Kimura Eiko, Harima-san will be in my homeroom," said Kimura.

"So desu ka. I leave her in your hands, Kimura-sensei," said Kenji bowing to her. "What class do you teach?"

"History," she answered.

Kenji looked back towards the ground catching one last sight of Mai before she disappeared into the crowd of students entering the gym. "She's had a tough life. She lost her real family during the war."

"Aw, is she from the West?"

"Sorta'. Mai-chan wa Kankokujin desu (Mai is a South Korean)."

Kimura's eyes widened. 'The poor thing.'

"Her Japanese is probably better than mine though," he snorted. "I will have to go soon. So I'm depending on you, Sensei."

He bowed and turned to leave.

"Gabatte kudasai (please do your best)!" she called. She watched the soldier walk back towards the station. She pulled out a notebook from her briefcase. She looked at the class list. "Mmm, Harima-san isn't the only Kankokujin in my class."

Mai was seated in the gym. They were seated by alphabetical order. Since the Japanese used hiragana as their base alphabet their order was a little different. It went: A, I, U, E, O, Ka (Ga), Ki (Gi), Ku (Gu), Ke (Ge), Ko (Go), Sa (Za), Shi (Ji), Su (Zu), Se (Ze), So (Zo), Ta (Da), Chi, Tsu, Te (De), To (Do), Na, Ni, Nu, Ne, No, Ha (Ba/Pa), Hi (Bi/Pi), Fu (Bu/Pu), He (Be/Pe), Ho (Bo/Po), Ma, Mi, Mu, Me, Mo, Ya, Yu, Yo, Ra, Ri, Ru, Re, Ro, and Wa (11).

Harima Mai was seated between Harima Shuuji and Hayashi Yui. Shuuji was wearing the standard black uniform that all Japanese male students seemed to wear. Somewhere ahead was Shinhachi Sachiko. On the front row was Ichijou Kosuke. On the row in front of Mai and Shuuji was Tennōji Mio. Mai caught Shuuji staring at her. She snickered to herself.

The principle seemed like a pleasant jolly old man dressed in a… maybe a little senile. He would go off on tangents about his childhood after the Pacific War and the start of the US occupation. Then the vice principle would remind him of what he was supposed to be doing.

Mai and Shuuji walked together down the first floor hall to their classroom, Class 1-F. Shuuji went to talk to a friend from his old school while Mai took a seat at her desk.

"Shillye hamnida (Excuse me)," said the girl on Mai's left. Mai's head snapped to her. Someone had just spoken to her in Korean. The girl had short dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She had a cane sitting in her lap. Mai could see a scar just protruding from her sock.

"Sang-jin Seo?"

"Ye, annyeong, Li Mai (Yes, hello, Mai Li)," said Seo. Mai hugged the girl.

"Seo, you're alive. What happened to you? Where are you living? What happened to your leg?" Mai asked in rapid Korean.

"Slow down, Mai. I'm fine. I got hurt during first wave of Northern soldiers. Japanese soldiers took the hospital I was in the next day and I was airlifted to Shinomoseki. I live here in Yagami," said Seo.

"Your father?"

"… He died on the first day. At his post on the DMZ," said Seo. Seo had lived alone. Her father was stationed on a post on the Demilitarized Zone north of Seoul. A next door neighbor had taken care of her while her father was away. Seo had no other family.

"Joesonghamnida (I'm sorry). My family is gone too. A squad of soldiers took me back with them. I live with a soldier and his fiancée and her sister. Now I'm called Harima Mai. Actually, that boy other there is my brother… technically," said Mai pointing to Shuuji. Seo and Mai talked about what had happened to them. She had arrived in Shinomoseki and not long afterwards the city had been taken by PLA and KPA soldiers. Being a South Korean, Seo had been placed in a prison camp with other refugees, Japanese dissidents, and POWs. German paratroopers had stormed the camp during the night and Seo had been taken to a hospital. By that time her leg wound from the 1st Battle of Pusan had become badly infected and she was taken to Tokyo. An Army surgeon had treated her and barely prevented the leg from being amputated. Despite the advanced Japanese medical technology, Seo's leg was permanently injured and she would never have full use of it. She had to walk with a cane. Seo now lived in a center for foreign refugees in Yagami that was funded by private corporations and the Japanese Government. It had been established decades ago to help Ainu (12) orphans and Nihonjin deported from the islands north of Hokkaido by the Soviets. The big probable was that the ones from Sakhalin were mostly Russian speaking and so the center was established to give them homes and teach them Japanese. These days the center was getting orphans from Korea, people from the South Pacific, the occasional Chinese refugee, and even Russians. Seo also said there was another Korean girl at the school from the center and that she should meet her.

Kimura-sensei entered the classroom and took a seat. She wrote her name on the board and then introduced herself. Each student introduced themselves by name and a brief statement about themselves.

After Mai's 4th period class ended she went back to the shoe lockers. She changed to street shoes. Mio was in Class 1-B with Sachi. Kosuke was in Class 1-C.

"Shillye hamnida." Mai turned to see a new girl. She had long hair. She was thin and her body looked underdeveloped. Judging by her sickly appearance Mai wondered if that was the result of illness. Mai smiled at her. This was clearly the girl Seo had told her about.

"Annyeonghaseyo (hello)," said Mai.

"Annyeong hasimnikka (hello)," said the girl. That was strange to Mai. Both were formal ways of saying hello, but the girl's choice of words were not commonly used. "You are a Korean like me, right?"

"Ye. He ireumeun Harima Mai imnida. Seonghami eotteoke doeseyo (Yes. My name is Harima Mai. What is your name)?" asked Mai.

"Lee Min Ho," said Lee.

"And where are you from?" asked Mai curiously. Lee's accent was strange and not one Mai knew. The girl looked very nervous suddenly. Mai's eyes widened in shock and she gasped, "Are you a Northerner?"

Lee placed a hand over Mai's mouth. "Shush! Ne (yes), ne. Please, Seo told me you were a Korean too. She said I could trust you."

"Well, you can," said Seo hobbling up from behind. Lee screamed. Mai was surprised the girl hadn't heard the clump of the rubber-tipped cane. Some students looked up at the three Korean girls. Seo looked at Lee frowning. Lee looked just as bad as Seo and Mai had been told conditions were in the North.

"Where are you from, Min Ho-san?" asked Mai politely.

"Kaesong," answered Lee. The two South Koreans nodded in understanding. Kaesong was now part of the Republic of Korea. Lee was probably sent here in the chaos after the war.

The three of them found a bench and took a seat.

"My mother starved to death long before the war. My father was a soldier. He died one day and I never knew why," said Lee.

"We lost our families to the war too," said Seo patting her on the back. Lee went rigid at the contact.

"Anio (no). He disappeared a year before the war… it just happens. I was sent to a smaller town nearer the border with other orphans." Mai and Seo listened in horror to Lee's description of life on the other side of the DMZ. Lee talked about neighbors disappearing in the night, loudspeakers blasting propaganda for 18 hours, bad health care, mass starvation, rolling black outs, high unemployment, and the life in general in a dictatorship.

"We were taught about President Kim Il-sung's great war against the Japanese and then the Imperialists. About how even superpowers like the Soviet Union valued us as important friends and Stalin and Mao had been looked to him for advance. That the Southern brothers. Even when Japanese tanks were rolling by the orphanage the loudspeakers continued talking about us nearing victory over the Imperialists."

"Didn't they seem like lies to you?" asked Mai.

"Hmm… it's hard to say," said Lee thoughtfully. She was opening up to the other girls. "All we were taught in school was propaganda. They taught us subtraction by asking us 'if you have 20 American soldiers and shoot 18 of them, how many are left?' We don't have internet or cell phones… actually many of us didn't have phones."

The day that Japanese soldiers had come had been the scariest day of her life. She believed one story that the Japanese would raped her, kill her, and then eat her. When a soldier had found her hiding under a blanket, they had no beds, she had bitten him. Despite wearing gloves the soldier had screamed in pain. Lee had expected to be shot then, but the soldier just yanked the blanket off. Two soldiers had had to carrying her out of the building because she was flaying so much. Then she was placed on a helicopter. Lee tried to jump out of the chopper preferring to die than face the horrors she'd been told she face all her life, but a soldier caught her.

They tried to feed her, but fearing she was going to be poisoned she struggled and attempted to stab a corpsman with her eating utensil. She was then restrained by four soldiers and a nurse then injected a sedative. Two days later she was awake. She no longer in a front line field hospital, but a real hospital surrounded by strange machines. She was strapped to the bed and an IV was dripping something into her. Lee didn't know she was on suicide watch and had to restrained and that the IV was giving her nurturance since they couldn't risk feeding her. The machines and computers were watching her vital signs because of malnutrition. Lee for several days believed these machines were somehow brainwashing her or doing some kind of unnatural evil.

After a month Lee was starting to trust her Japanese doctors. A Korean-speaking social worker met her three times a week. They had let her out of restraints and she was allowed solid food again.

"Then I asked if I could go outside and Nishimoto-uisa (doctor) he would take me out if I promised to behave," said Lee.

"What surprised you the most?" asked Mai. Not much in Japan had surprised her. South Korea was similar enough that Japan wasn't too alien to her, but to a North Korea it must have been like another planet.

"Hmmm… food," said Lee thoughtfully.

"Huh?"

"I was taken down an alley full of small shops selling all kinds of fish, vegetables, and fruits… in North Korea fruits are rare and we often don't get meat. Markets were often empty, but I saw a market with mountains of food. People were buying at their leisure and it so cheap too," said Lee remembered her first experience with the outside world. That day had changed her forever and she realized just how big a world had existed outside of her fatherland. Lee's experience was not unique. Many people who had escaped the Soviet Union had similar experiences… though life in the USSR was much better than Democratic People's Republic of Korea. Lee had never seen bananas or oranges before.

"Cars are also surprised me. In the North we aren't allowed in the streets even though there aren't cars. The only vehicles are trucks, buses, government cars, or military vehicles. The militiamen would yell at us if we played in the streets even when there were no cars. In Japan I saw if I ran into the street I could die. So many cars," said Lee. She remembered Nishimoto, the social worker assigned to her, had told her that she could buy a car one day. He also explained that in the West most people owned a car and in Japan also owned cars, though not nearly as many as Americans. Lee couldn't wrap her mind around that. She saw more cars in those hours outside than in her entire life in North Korea. How could Americans have even more? She vowed to see it for herself.

She was left full of wonder at the end of that day. Not long after Lee was sent to the center. Lee wanted to remain in Japan, but she spoke no Japanese. She spoke Korean and had learned basic Russian in elementary school in North Korea. Lee spent a year learning Japanese in the center. She had also refined her Russian a bit with the boy in the room next door, Mikhail Sergeiyevich Kirihara, who was a Nikkeijin (13) from the Southern Kuril Islands. She had also met Seo, a South Korean. Lee had avoided her for days fearing a Southerner injured by Northern troops would not be very friendly. Seo had been very sympathetic saw Lee as South Korean since her Kaesong now was part of the RoK again.

The three Koreans walked towards the gate. Most students had left already. The sports teams were still around.

"Oi," called a man waving at Mai. Mai realized she had completely forgotten that Kenji was picking her up.

"Ah, Onii-chan, gomenassai," she apologized. Lee looked up at the soldier. Harima Kenji was still in uniform. She looked at the Japanese blue uniform and noted that it looked like it had been better made than her father's green KPA uniform.

"Atarashi tomodachi (new friends)?" asked Kenji.

"Ee, Min Ho Lee-chan to Sang-jin Seo-chan desu," said Mai.

"Hajimemashite," both Seo and Lee said. Kenji noted their accents.

"Kankokujin desu ka?" asked Kenji.

"Hai," said Seo.

"Well please take care of her while she's at school," said Kenji bowing slightly. Seo and Lee both saw the 6th Infantry Division's insignia on him. They realized that this man was departing tomorrow.

"Ja mata (well, we'll see you later)," said Kenji.

"Matte (wait)," said Mai. Mai wrote down something on a piece of paper. "My email and cell number. Ja ne."

Seo and Lee waved good-bye. They both headed towards the station. On the train back Lee pulled out a cell phone from her back. It had been given to her as a present for her birthday, but she didn't have many numbers for it. She only had numbers for the center, her social worker, Seo, and dorm manager. She entered in the new number and address. Internet, cell phones, and free media had been a shock, but like many from communist nations, Lee found them overwhelming. Seo had grown up with these things and took it for granted.

"Hey, you doing anything tomorrow?" asked Seo.

"Anio. Why?"

* * *

**2140 Hours; April 5****th****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Yakumo was cleaning up dinner. Mai and Tenma were both in bed already so they could be up early. With the dishes done she decided to take a shower. She laid out some underwear and her pajamas in a tray in the bathroom. She pulled off her sweater and T-shirt. Next she unbuttoned her jeans. Yakumo double-checked to make sure she locked the bathroom door before unhooking her bra. Shyly she wrapped on arm over them and walked to the shower. Once she had the water at comfortable temperature she stepped out of her panties and into the cascade of warm water. Yakumo was not one that was comfortable with her body, but like most people she found a warm shower very relaxing.

It was hard to believe how much her life had changed. When she started high school roughly 4 years ago she not believe she would fall in love, start a career in the manga business, be sharing her home with a man and his adopted Korean sister, get engaged, and watch her fiancée depart half way around the world to risk his life.

Yakumo washed her silky black hair and began to scrub her figure with soap.

Yakumo thought about Kenji. She would be getting married to him. An image of an older version of herself and Kenji walking with two small children filled her mind. She pictured her wedding. Her in a Western white gown and Kenji in a black tuxedo. She wondered about her honeymoon. Where would they go? Okinawa? Hokkaido? Maybe somewhere in the West? And what would they do together?

Well, she knew what they would do. She blushed. 4 years ago the thought would make her heart stop, 3 years ago it would have caused her to faint, 2 years ago she run from the room, and last year she would have sunk into silence and embarrassment. Now, Yakumo toyed with the idea in the back of her mind. She'd have to do it one day. According to her sister, sex, when performed with one you truly and dearly love, is the greatest expression of love.

'Greatest expression of love,' echoed Yakumo in her mind. She looked down at her body. Yakumo was aware of how she looked. She once asked Kenji if she founded her physically attractive. He did. Still their relationship wasn't very physical. Kissing and cuddling was the most of it. She had shared a futon with him before too, but nothing really happened.

Yakumo turned off the water and under a screen of steam she emerged from the shower. She dried herself off and wrapped a towel around her while brushed her teeth. Next she dressed and dropped the towel with her dirty clothes in the hamper. Yakumo was making a decision. She wanted to show Kenji how much she loved him. He had changed her life. She was more open and not as afraid of other people.

In her room Yakumo opened a locked drawer on her nightstand. Over the years Yakumo had received various gifts and the ones she didn't want others to see she hind in here. Most of these had been from Akira. Most of these were 'how to' books. Most were too embarrassing, but she had, under pressure from the former Tea Club president, read the book on how to seduce men. Yakumo now wished she had read the other books now, but there wasn't time now. She picked up a small perfume bottle that Eri had given her last year for her birthday. Yakumo held the bottle several inches from her face, closed her eyes and mouth, and sprayed. Eri had been very clear not to put too much on. Like men putting on too much cologne, women with too much perfume tended to make people gag.

Kenji was currently staring at the ceiling. At this point he could draw every centimeter of it with every little crack in the plaster. He needed to sleep, but couldn't. He would be in bound for Europe for the next two weeks or so to get to Europe. Pacific was the largest ocean in the world and would take the longest to cross. Then at Panama they would be held up while the entire fleet was put through the locks. A another week crossing the Atlantic, Mediterranean, and reach the Balkans or Greece. Just over two weeks.

Kenji heard his door open. He was so busy contemplating just what an entire battalion of soldiers confined to a ship would do all that time that he didn't hear someone going down the hall.

He looked up to see Yakumo dressed in her normal blue pajamas. She once told Kenji it had been a present from her parents overseas as part of a matching set. She had gotten the blue and Tenma a light pink. Yakumo had come across a light green set just like theirs for Mai.

"Can't sleep either?" asked Kenji. She nodded and locked the door behind her back.

Yakumo approached Kenji slowly. A voice in her head reminded her that it still wasn't too late to turn around, but she had made her decision. She wanted this. She sat down next to Kenji and leaned her head against his chest. Kenji nuzzled the top of her head fondly. He inhaled and found himself being pulled into an almost trance-like state. He couldn't remember Yakumo smelling this good. Yakumo up and looked Kenji deep in the eyes. They seemed pleading to Kenji. It didn't know for what though, it could have been any number of reasons. He smiled affectionately.

"… eto," Yakumo stuttered. "… I love you."

"I love you too," Kenji said. He smiled thinking he now understood why she was here. Yakumo leaned in closer to him. Kenji, being a little slow, didn't immediately notice. When he did he followed suit. Kenji closed his eyes and felt gentle moist lips make contact with his.

He placed a hand to the back of her head and enjoyed the silky feel of her hair between his fingers. The other arm was armed around her. In highly uncharacteristic aggressiveness Yakumo deepened the kiss. At first Kenji did not understand what she was doing, but he found himself following her lead. Emboldened by her Kenji tried make his on advances. He slowly slipped his tongue into her mouth. Yakumo wondered if she was going to go into cardiac arrest. Her heart rate was definitely up. She felt Kenji's tongue probing the inside of her mouth. It occurred to Yakumo that she should probably act and she tried moving her own tongue. She was clinging to him tighter and was unaware that she was emitting moans.

Also unaware of his actions, Kenji began to push forward forcing Yakumo slowly onto her back. Yakumo however had other plans and pushed to keep in her current upright position. She took Kenji's hand from her stroking the back of her head. She slowly and nervously placed it against her breast. Kenji didn't quite know what was happening at first just that his hand was on something warm, round, and soft. He then started to process what he was touching, but when it donned on him his brain wouldn't comprehend it.

Yakumo broke the kiss first. She had her hand on top of Kenji's holding it to her chest. She her face was red and she had her head angled down, but her eyes looking up at him trying to read his face. Yakumo felt like her heart was beating so fast that it was just one continuous beat. She saw Kenji's face was also red and his mouth was hanging open in shock. She knew that expression. He was still trying to figure out what was happening. He gave an experimental squeeze.

Yakumo let out a sudden and involuntary cry. She hadn't realized how sensitive she was. She bit the bottom of her lip and tried to regain some control. Her natural shyness made her feel self-conscious, but she had also felt aroused. Kenji also started to feel self-conscious. His boxers suddenly seemed inadequate to conceal the physical signs of his arousal. He was becoming hard and becoming harder still as Yakumo began to unbutton her top. Yakumo wondered if it would have been better to have owned fancier underwear. It was a white bra with some lace on the edges, but overall rather plane compared to the kinds that she'd seen Eri wear, black all lace.

Kenji placed a hand under the folds of her pajama top and onto the cotton bra. He shifted his position and came from behind her with one arm wrapped around her waist. With the other hand he started to massage her breasts. Yakumo had a hand raised to her mouth and was biting on her pointer finger to keep from being too loud. Her moans were already becoming louder. Yakumo was grateful her sister was a deep sleeper and that Mai was further down the hall from them. Kenji wasn't quite sure what he was doing, but he knew this was his last chance to be with his beloved fiancée. He leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck.

As he worked his way along her jaw line Yakumo moans reached a higher and higher pitch. Kenji's other hand gently caressed her stomach. He marveled at how smooth and warm her skin felt to the touch.

Yakumo shifted a little and broke from his grasp. She shrugged off her top and looked over her shoulder at him. Following her lead Kenji pulled off his shirt exposing his well toned, yet slightly scarred, body. She blushed, but smiled shyly. He hugged her. The contact from their skin felt intensely hot.

Kenji saw that Yakumo's nipples were becoming hard and were starting to show. He index and middle finger against one and rubbed it in a circular motion. Yakumo struggled to suppress a long loud moan that increased with intensity with the speed at which Kenji rubbed her nipple. She was squeezing her thighs together. She was aware of the feeling of heat developing between her legs. She knew she was backing wet and worried it would soak through her panties and her pajama bottom. But on the other hand she found she didn't quite care. Although her shyness was hampering it to some extent, she was enjoying the warm she was feeling and the pleasure that was coursing through her body.

Yakumo turned herself around so she was facing Kenji again. She kissed him and slowly pulled him on top of her laying on his futon. Kenji worked his way along her jaw again. He followed the scent of her perfume down to her chest. He slipped his fingers under her bra pushed out of the way exposing her supple C-cup breasts and raw pink nipples. Kenji paused to admire this sight… as any man would probably have. Yakumo wondered how she was being judged. She gasped Kenji kissed her breast and continued to massage the other one.

Kenji other hand was drifting 'south' along her stomach. He hesitated for a few seconds and then unbuttoned her bottom. Yakumo bit her lip and braced herself. A gasp came from her mouth when Kenji's hand rubbed between her legs. Kenji further aroused at his own daringness and that her panties were soaked through. Next Kenji slipped his fingers inside her panties. He teased the outer folds of her womanhood with his index finger. As the finger became soaked in her juices Kenji found he was able to probe it inside her. Yakumo let out a restrained scream of pleasure.

Yakumo looked behind her to make sure she had locked the door. She was becoming increasingly concerned that she would wake up her sister… then she remembered that Tenma could sleep through pretty much anything. Kenji on the other hand continued to finger his fiancée. He simultaneously kissed her breasts. Yakumo had grabbed the sleeve of her pajama top and was biting down on it to muffle her groans. Kenji kissed his way down across her stomach and came to a stop her soaked panties.

He looked up to meet her eyes. Yakumo understood he was wordlessly asking for permission to continue. She gave him a shy smile and nodded. Gently, Kenji pulled down her panties. He looked down at his completely nude fiancée and took a large gulp. He lowered his face down between her legs. Her pink virgin womanhood was wet and shining and emitting a strange intoxicating smell. He caressed it with his fingers and then kissed it. And then started to lick it.

"Slow down," Yakumo whispered in a breathless voice. Kenji's tongue felt a little rough against her. Kenji paused and then applied his tongue gently against and slowly caressed her. Slowly he travelled up and down her. Yakumo whimpered. His tongue was moist and warm. She wrapped her legs around his neck encircling him with her warm smooth slender legs.

Somewhere along the way intellectual thought abandon both of them. Primal instincts took over with the explosion of pleasure Yakumo was experiencing and Kenji's own excitement. Kenji was increasing the speed at which he was licking her, but she was sufficiently wet.

A new feeling was developing in Yakumo. A pressure was building and it was new to her. It felt like she needed to pee and as the pressure grew she feared that was going to happen. Yakumo wanted to stop fearing that she was going to urinated in her beloved's face.

"Kenji?"

"Mmm?" he grunted while busy with her womanhood.

"I think… oh… we… hmm," she tried to speak between moans. The feeling was overwhelming now. She was trying to squeeze her legs together in an effort to fight it back, but only succeeded in making it hard for Kenji to breath. Her heart was racing and she couldn't think of anything to say. In fact she suspected speech had abandoned her. She was truly panicking now as she felt a small amount of something leak out of her. Internally, Yakumo was being torn apart by her panic and the overpowering sexual pleasure. Her whimpers were getting louder. She tried to fight it back in one last vain attempt.

For a second Kenji felt Yakumo's whole body contract and stiffen. Her back arched and she screamed and then womanhood erupted in his face. Yakumo lay limp and panting. Her legs were loosely hanging around Kenji. A smile appeared on her face as a warm feeling of satisfaction swept over her. Kenji, as he whipped off his face with a tissue, on the other hand was feeling overwhelmed by his own hormones and causing Yakumo to cum only pushed him to the breaking point.

He climbed on top of her and kissed her. He probed the crevasses of her body. He stopped and hovered over her, their faces centimeters apart.

"Yakumo?"

"Hai?" she said. There was something sweet and innocent about her tone, but something new. A boldness that was awakening inside of her.

He gulped and took a deep breath. "I want…"

He couldn't think what to say. "May I… uh, may I take this to the final step?"

Yakumo bit her lip again. She wondered if there were permanent teeth marks on them. This was her last chance to turn back. She could say no. She was scared. But did she want to? What would become of them afterwards? She could wait until they were married, right? But what if Kenji never returned? She had enjoyed sex so far, but this was going to be the painful part.

Yakumo reached for her pajama top and inside the pocket. She withdrew a square foil wrapper. "Do you love me?"

"Of course," Kenji said a little hurt she could ask such a thing.

"Do you promise to return alive?" she asked. There was in fierceness in her eyes. "Do you promise to come home, marry me, and start a family with me?"

This ultimatum surprised him. Could he promise such a thing? He placed a rough, but gentle hand to her check. He thought back to the war. The many sleepless nights in abandon schools and train stations during the invasion of Japan. He remembered the cold nights in Seoul and trying to keep from freezing. He remembered seeing soldiers cut down. He remembered, and still had nightmares about this, the counterattack on Pusan. He remembered how close he came to death. But he also thought about his life now.

"I promise."

Yakumo looked him deep in the eye. She saw his resolve and honesty. She handed him the condom and shyly said, "You know I love children. I like a large family, and to raise them here."

"I know," he said as he pulled down his boxers.

"Two girls and two boys," she said, more to herself than him.

"Could we name one after my oto-san (father)?" Kenji asked hesitantly.

"Hai," she agreed.

"Arigato."

Kenji ripped open the wrapper and fumbled with the condom. He tried putting it on, discovered it was on backwards, and turned it around. Yakumo looked at his cock in some apprehension. She did not know if it was larger than most or normal size, but it seemed too big to fit inside of her. Once Kenji was sure it was on securely he looked up at her. "Uh, I guess I'm ready."

"Ah, so desu ka. Ja, hajimemasu (I see. Then let's begin)," she said nervously.

"Hai," he said quietly nervously. He kissed her and placed one hand on her chest and one on her back to gently lower her to her back. Yakumo held Kenji's hand to her chest for a few seconds just so he could feel her heart beating. Yakumo wrapped her arms around his neck while he positioned himself over her.

"Not too hard," she said. "This could really hurt me if you're not careful."

"Wakatta (I know)," he said. Kenji gave Yakumo's outer folds a light prod with his tip. He tried to push it in, but found he was unable to. Yakumo emitted a small groan. She had felt the slight twinges that warned of further pain. Kenji tries rubbing the head of his penis against her. This Yakumo didn't mind so much since it wasn't causing her pain.

Steadily, Yakumo becomes wet again. Combined with the lubrication that was on the latex condom Kenji tried pushing inside her again. This time he was more successful. Yakumo gritted her teeth and tried to suppress cries of pain. She couldn't believe that she could feel pleasure and pain at the same time. Though, the pain was much more apparent to her.

Kenji was aware that he was hurting her and he was trying to be as gentle as possible. Kenji couldn't help but reflect that it was more little unfair that men didn't feel pain on their first time, but for women it could be extremely painful.

He tried going as slow as he could while maintaining his own arousal. She was so tight, which was pleasurable to him, but not her. Yakumo thought she was being torn apart. Kenji seemed bigger than her and it would be impossible for him to enter all the way. She tightened her grip around his back and held him closer.

Yakumo suddenly felt her and Kenji's bodies meet. He was all the way in. Kenji marveled that he was inside her.

"… I'm in," he said, a little limely.

"Ee (yeah)," she agreed horsely.

"Does it hurt?"

She nodded.

"Gomen," he apologized.

"Ieie (forget it)," she dismissed. She remembered listening to her classmates once talking about sex. About a girl who had bled during her first time. This was one of the more terrifying aspects of sex. She felt Kenji twitch inside her a little and felt a small spark of pleasure.

"Ready?" he asked, concern written across his face.

"Hai," she whispered.

Slowly, Kenji pulled out of her which was a little easier. Yakumo looked down at his shaft and saw a tiny amount of blood. She thought that was probably to be expected. As gently as he could Kenji thrust back into her. In and out he went slowly picking up speed. Heat seemed to be building between the two. It was starting to feel like he was melting into her and they were becoming one.

Her body was becoming more relaxed. She could also feel the feeling of pressure in her body. Now that Yakumo knew what was building inside of her it did not scare her as much. It still embarrassed her, but new excited her a little. As innocent as she was by nature, Yakumo had liked the warm feeling of content and satisfaction.

Kenji was nearing the end of his limit. He was struggling to hold back and wondered if Yakumo was too. Despite having asked her to marry him, Kenji had never actually thought he'd be doing this with Yakumo. In retrospect it was a mark of his own naivety.

"Yakumo?"

"Hai?"

"I can't… I'm at my limit," he groaned.

She nodded. "Just a little longer."

Yakumo could see Kenji was about to lose it, but she was not yet there. Kenji fearing to disappoint his fiancée summoned all his stamina. Yakumo finally reached her climax. They came together. In that moment nothing else seemed to exist. Only they existed. Fluids poured out of Yakumo's womanhood. She could feel a new surge of heat radiating through the condom which she knew to be his fluids. Kenji was lying on top of her. They were both sweaty and breathing hard, but feeling deeply satisfied.

Kenji kissed her on the forehead. Yakumo smiled sweetly up at him as he threw away the condom. She didn't realize, or care, that she was feeling an adrenaline rush that was starting to wear off. She was starting to feel the physical pain from losing her virginity, but no regrets. Also with the loss of adrenaline she felt very tired and was soon drifting peacefully to sleep snuggling against Kenji's chest.

Kenji was watching Yakumo sleeping. She had never looked so happy or peaceful. He wondered just how much he'd have to do get home alive. He loved Yakumo. He loved the home he had now. Kenji had never really thought about the future much, it was something the Army had taught him to really consider. For the first time in his life he really could see that his future was laid out in front of him… and not some crazy half-baked dream he'd often had before.

He drifted off to sleep thinking of the family had now and ones he hoped to add to the family. He vaguely wondered if Karasuma would move in too. They might need a bigger house.

* * *

**0559 Hours; April 5****th****, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Kenji awoke a minute before his alarm clock went off. Next to him Yakumo stirred. She looked up to see Kenji pulled on a T-shirt and boxers, grab a towel, and head to the shower. She lay back down with a smile. Yakumo was pretty tempted to go back to sleep, but she knew she would have to grab a shower and then make breakfast.

She decided to put clothes on and return to her own room before Kenji returned.

Kenji returned to find his room empty. Yakumo's clothes were gone too and he figured, correctly, that she was going to take a shower before Tenma or Mai did. He folded up his sheets and put them in the closet. As he turned to roll up his futon, he saw the stains from last night. He blushed and rolled it up quickly. It seemed like a dream now. He remembered her touch, her smell, and feeling of intimacy.

He pulled on the Flecktarn camouflage plants. Then he put on the matching jacket over his olive-drab T-shirt with Federal Army written on it. He checked to make sure all the patches were in the right places and secure. He had the Japanese flag on his right sleeve, 6th Infantry insignia on his left sleeve, private first class on both shoulders, crossed rifles on his collar showing he had completed Army training, above the right breast pocket was the insignia marking him as infantry, and nametag that read: Harima, K.

Kenji pulled on the pistol belt with his knife, pistol, and magazines attached. He finished with pulled on a field cap that had matching camouflage and the Imperial Seal pinned on the front of it.

Breakfast was quiet. The TV remained off throughout the whole meal. Kenji tried to eat his last meal at home for a while, but it felt like ash in his mouth. When he finished he helped clear the table.

Kenji walked down the street with Yakumo at his side and Tenma and Mai right behind them. It amazed Yakumo that he didn't seem weighed down by his rucksack and duffle. What she didn't know was that the rucksack was mostly empty and would be filled with military equipment later. Up ahead Kenji could see another Army soldier heading to the station.

It seemed too soon for everyone, but they reached Yagami JR East Station.

"Mai, you be good and do well in school," said Kenji giving her a hug.

"Tenma, take care of Yakumo," he said giving his future sister-in-law a hug.

"Yakumo, take care of these two and yourself. I will be back as soon as I can," he said holding her tight and giving her a small kiss on the check. "I love you three more than anything. Don't forget that."

He turned to wave one last time before heading to the station entrance.

"Ohayo gozaimasu, sir," said Kenji snapping to attention and saluting the lieutenant in front of him.

"Ohayo, Corporal," said the MP. "Name."

"Harima Kenji. 27th Infantry Battalion, 81st Regiment. Federal Army," said Kenji.

"Mmmm, hai, here you are. Dozo," said the MP handing Kenji a train ticket. "Go to platform #3, there will be a train going to Shinjuku. You will switch to a train to Ueno where a military train will take you all the way to Kure. Corporal, you must check in with an MP Officer or NCO at each station you change trains at, wakarimasu ka?"

"Hai, sir. Wakarimasu (I understand)," said Kenji. He took his train ticket and proceeded into the station.

"Ohayo, Kenji," greeted Haruki. Haruki was sitting on his duffle cleaning his glasses. Hiroyoshi was standing next to them reading his orders. As squad leader he had a thicker packet.

The board above the platform informed them:

Military Train; No Unauthorized Passengers; ETA 1 Minute

They heard the train's klaxon (14) and saw the bright lights of the lead car. The rails hummed and they heard the rattle of wheels passing over switches. The breaks screeched as the train slowed to a stop. There were already some soldiers on board as Kenji, Haruki, and Hiroyoshi got on with several other soldiers. The three of them took over some seats. Kenji and Haruki sat across from each other by the window and Hiroyoshi sat next to Haruki. A sailor in light blue shirt and navy blue trousers, the uniform of Navy enlisted soldiers, sat next to Kenji. His hat said he belonged to JFS Jintsu DE/FFG-230, a guided-missile frigate. There was another sailor sitting on the other side of the aisle in a khaki tunic with black trousers, worn by Navy NCOs and officers, whose cap read: JFS Kurama DDH-144, a helicopter destroyer that was now used as a sub-hunter. With a jerk the train pulled out of Yagami and departed for Karakura. Haruki stared out the window, Hiroyoshi slept, and Kenji read the handbook. The Seaman next to Kenji would occasionally look up and open his mouth as if to start a conversation.

At Karakura the train slowed as it approached the station. Kenji saw a lot of Army soldiers board the train, but few he recognized. He saw some from auxiliary units assigned to 6th Infantry like supply, medical, and engineering. The train raced on northeast towards Tokyo.

It might surprise some people to find out that there was a lot of farmland between Sagami River and Tokyo. They were racing past lots of rice patties and small towns. Kenji saw them pass a sign informing them they were entering the Tokyo Prefecture. The trained rolled through southeast Tokyo approaching the Meguro Ward of Tokyo. It surprised Kenji that one of the stations they past was called Yakumo. Haruki stared out at the billboards in the middle of Meguro. Hiroyoshi woke up as they crossed the Meguro River.

"If that's the Meguro-gawa, then we should be in Shibuya soon," said Hiroyoshi.

The train was going at a slower speed since it was in the dense urban zones of Tokyo. Shibuya was home to the Japanese fashion world and the soldiers were bombarded by billboards and flashing signs showing the latest styles. Some of the female soldiers admired the outfits… and some of the male soldiers admired the models in the outfits.

The train didn't stop at the crowded Shibuya Station and kept going north into Harajuku. As they sailed through Harajuku the soldiers on the train could see the grounds that surrounded the Meiji Shrine.

The line they were on merged with several other tracks as the train crossed into the Shinjuku Ward and approached the busiest station in Tokyo, Shinjuku-eki.

"Shinjuku, Shinjuku! Final destination! All personnel detrain!" announced the engineer over the loudspeaker.

Kenji saw several trains going in and out of Shinjuku. They entered on the upper level and the train came to a stop. There were armed MPs waiting for them and other trains. It didn't occur to Kenji that they were there to arrest or even shoot soldiers who attempted to desert. Kenji gave his travel orders to a master sergeant who hardly looked at him and just gave him a ticket to Ueno. Kenji found himself on a Yamanote Line train on a clockwise loop (15). They went north until they reached Ikebukuro, the second busiest station in Tokyo, where the turned east. The tracks merged with the Tohoku-Joetsu Shinkansen Line. A northbound Shinkansen (Bullet Train) past them heading north to Omiya. Finally the train pulled into Ueno-eki.

Ueno Station was one of the three major terminals in Tokyo. It serviced both local commuter trains and the intercity express trains.

Kenji followed Haruki through the terminal in search of the subterranean level where the Shinkansen trains were located.

"Harima, Hanai!" shouted Hiroyoshi. "Platforms 19-22 are this way."

They took the stairs from the ground floor to where platform for tracks 19-20, which the military had reserved. The military seemed to have gone all out to make sure the soldiers were comfortable with all the attendants. As one train pulled out another one immediately pulled in. Kenji, Haruki, and Hiroyoshi boarded this one with nearly their entire squad. Only Jupei Miho was absent, but that was because she lived in Hiroshima which practically neighbored Kure.

The Shinkansen rolled out of Ueno Station, then the larger Tokyo Station, and then Shinagawa Station, the other main terminal in Tokyo. They picked up a little speed after leaving Tokyo and then slowed as they entered Yokohama. Though Tokyo's and Yokohama's suburbs were so close it was hard to tell where the city limits were. They raced through Odawara, Atami, Mishima, Fuji, Shizuoka, Kakegawa, Hamamatsu, Toyohashi, Mikawa-Anjo, Nagoya, Gifu-Hashima, Kyoto, and Osaka. It would normally take 2 and a half hours, but since they weren't making stops they did it in 2 hours. Normally the line ended at Osaka, but the train continued along on to the main line that normally ended at Fukuoka, Kyushu. Another hour later they had raced through Kobe, Aioi, Okayama, and Mihara. At Mihara they were redirected to the Kure Line.

The train came to a complete stop at Kure Station. They exited the train and were directed by MPs to the front of the station where military trucks waited for them, similar to the American M939 5-ton truck.

"Think it'll rain?" asked Kenji looking up at the skies.

"Maybe," said Haruki. It was cloudy. It had been this way all across Western Japan. What they didn't know was that the Navy had chosen this day so that Soviet reconnaissance satellites couldn't see them fleet or the divisions assembling. They even had some satellite jamming devices as backups. Counter-intelligence agents were also trolling around looking for foreign spies. In the past week they had arrested two People's Liberation Army Intelligence Bureau agents and six KGB First Directorate agents. The Japanese strongly suspected the Soviets were reported their movements to Yugoslavia.

Police and military police had the main road from the station to the docks blocked off. Kenji could see massive cranes looming over the buildings ahead. 5th squad was dropped off next to a building on the docks. They were to collect their weapons here.

Kenji walked away with his M-14E3 automatic rifle. He found that he was issued a different anti-tank weapon along with its manual. He started to read about the Shoulder-launched Multipurpose Assault Weapon (SMAW) produced by Talley Defense Systems. It fired an 83 mm rocket with a range of 500 m. The Americans were retiring them from their service with the newer FGM-172 SRAW (Short-Range Assault Weapon) and the heavier and very expensive FGM-148 Javelin.

Haruki was carrying the extra rockets and the Howa Type 89 assault rifle.

Kenji looked up at the massive troop ship, which was basically a cargo ship converted to carry a regiment. Kenji approached the gangway. He looked behind him and then at the ground. He was one last step away from the metal gangway. He took a deep breath and placed a boot with a clank on it and his heart seemed to sink as he no longer stood on home soil.

He was leaving behind his family and future. He checked his hand for his engagement band. It was a reminder of the promise he made. A promise to return.

* * *

**1300 Hours; April 5****th****, 2012 (UTC +4); #1 Dzerzhinsky Square, Moscow; Moscow Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic**

**Japanese Standard Time (UTC +9): 1800 Hours; April 5****th****, 2012**

Dzerzhinsky Square is not far from Red Square. Before the October Revolution it was called Lubyanka Square, but was renamed after the Polish communist Felix Edmundovich Dzerzhinsky, founder of the Cheka, the first Soviet secret police force and forerunner if the KGB.

1# Dzerzhinsky Square, popularly referred to as the Lubyanka despite the square's name change, was the Headquarters of the Committee for State Security (KGB HQ).

To the amassment of some Russians… and slight horror of Westerners, across Dzerzhinsky Square is a popular toy store called Children's World. Thus, a common nickname in Moscow for the Lubyanka is Adult's World (16).

In a room several chiefs and senior staff officers of the KGB were in a conference room watching a slideshow.

"As you can see Comrades, the Japanese are preparing to put their fleet to sea. Our intelligence originally indicated they planned on sending a squadron of ships and a division," said a First Chief Directorate captain.

Half an hour ago there had been a break in the clouds over Kure and a Soviet satellite had managed to get pictures. The KGB officers were not pleased to see roughly a third of the Japanese surface combatants were anchored in the Seto Inland Sea with most of the fast fleet replenishing ships with them.

"Shirane Class," noted a naval expert. "That's being used as their primary anti-submarine ships. They also have the new Koikiri frigates. They seem to be concerned about submarines. Anti-air ships too. So they're also concerned about anti-ship missiles or air attackes."

"Ground units include two infantry divisions. The ones with the most experience and they seem to be bringing their newest and best equipment with them," said a Lt. Colonel.

"Da, Comrade Major. They also have already mobilized their entire 2nd Air Group," said Major General and an air force expert.

"What is they offensive strength, Yuri?" asked General Sergei Vladimirovich Putin, Head of the First Chief Directorate of the KGB, the foreign intelligence wing. He had no relation to Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin. Putin was not an uncommon name in Russia.

"The little mu'dak (assholes) have maybe three fighter squadrons and four fighter-bomber squadrons. They used American F-15s and these planes called the F-1s. For support they have maybe two E-767 AWACSs and two KC-767 tankers. They will fly across the Pacific and land in the Midwest or Eastern United States and then land in bases in Italy mostly likely, Sergei Vladimirovich," said the Major General.

"Where are they now?" asked General Putin.

"They are passing over Iwo Jima and are turning east towards Wake Island, Comrade General," answered a Captain. "The Amerikansky have several tankers waiting for them to refuel them."

"Very good, Captain," said Putin. "Speaking of our dear old friends, what are they doing?"

"The USS Kearsarge left Little Creek this morning," said another officer. "That will probably be the 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit. Their goal is to respond to situations in the Mediterranean Region. Their strength is one infantry battalion, one squadron, and one logistics battalion. The 173rd Airborne Brigade has not moved."

The US 173rd Airborne Brigade was a special brigade meant to respond to crises in Europe.

"Our allies have prevented them from landing," laughed a Colonel. "Their landing zones are in JNA hands and their beachheads are within their artillery range."

Putin nodded. In front of him was a file labeled:

Top Secret

Eyes Only

Do Not Copy

Operation: Continental

The only thing was that it wasn't in Russian. It was in English. The cover did not have the Soviet red star or the hammer and sickle. It bore a bald eagle holding arrows in its talons and the words "Department of Defense - United States of America".

"And the Japanese?"

"Comrade General, the Naicho we suspect have killed one of our officers in Prague. They also have relocated the naval reconnaissance plane that they captured. We do not know where it is currently being held," said another Colonel.

"Damn the GRU. They talk about how they don't need us doing their jobs for them and they can't prevent desertion. Well, all the better for us. The Japanese are getting a little too nosey," said Putin darkly. The KGB typically were in competition with their Armed Force's counterparts the GRU. Most Soviets also tended to despise the Japanese who had crushed the Russian military in the Japanese-Russo War. "Comrade Chairman Nevsky will be very upset if they learn things they shouldn't."

"Of course, Comrade General," answered the officers in the room. But only three men in the room knew what the Japanese could never learn and report to their American masters. In fact less than 40 people in the KGB knew what was being planned.

* * *

**0800 Hours; April 5****th****, 2012 (UTC -4); Oval Office, White House; Washington DC, United States of America**

**Moscow Standard Time (UTC +4): 1600 Hours; April 5****th****, 2012**

"Good morning, Madam President," said CIA Director Mark Shepherd. He was followed by DIA Director Dennis Remarque.

"Good morning gentlemen," said President Crane. In the room with her were the Joint Chiefs. They were in the middle of a meeting. "I take it this can't wait."

It wasn't a question. She knew the directors of two intelligence agencies would show up unannounced and interrupted an important meeting for no reason.

"No, ma'am," said Director Remarque. "This is probably not unrelated to this either."

"Really?" asked the Chief of Staff Admiral Lafley.

"Yes, Admiral. You know Operation: Continental?" asked the DCI.

"Of course," said General William Seidensticker, Commandant of the UN Marine Corps. "It was the planned response to a Yugoslavian invasion of Albania. It was planned by the Corps."

"Yes, and it seems to be going very well," said President Crane sarcastically. She couldn't understand why units hadn't deployed to Albania the moment the Yugoslav People's Army invaded it. "We had an air wing in Italy, an airborne brigade in Germany just for this kind of thing, and a marine task unit in Little Creek that was part of this plan the only just left port. Why did it take so long? Don't we even have a carrier there?!"

She was quiet, but sounded very angry. She was a small woman and had to walk around with a cane, but she a very intimidating woman.

"Madam President," began Admiral Anthony Quinn, Chief of Naval Operations. "The Eisenhower did not have orders to interfere, but we do admit it was our fault for not deploying the 26th Marines sooner."

Seidensticker frowned. He didn't like the Navy speaking for the Marine Corps.

"The 31st Fighter Wing did try to mobilized against the Yukes, ma'am," said General Timothy McEwen, Chief of the Air Force. "We couldn't communicate with the Albanians. My pilots didn't know what they were bombing and then the front lines turned into a hornet's nest of SAMs."

"They also seized all the 173rd's drop zones by the time they got up in the air," said General Gary Obrisky, Chief of the US Army.

"And doesn't that not strike you as odd?" asked Director Shepherd.

"What do you...?" asked General Obrisky when it hit him. "We have the head spooks here of two agencies and an enemy that seems to know what we are doing before we do it."

The DIA Director nodded gravely. "Yes. Madam President, Generals, Admirals, we have been breached by an unknown intelligence agency."

* * *

This is one of the longest chapters I've ever written. This is also my first lemon. I beg that if you want to comment on it please be tasteful. Hope you have enjoyed this chapter. I really hope to get the next one of much sooner. I also hope you have had a good holiday whatever faith you practice. It's the start of a new year and a new decade.

Looking back this has not been a very good past ten years. We have endured Bush, September 11, the global economic crisis, a series of ecological and social crises, the War on Terror, the invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq, North Korea and Iran's nuclear program, and several other things.

On the bright side we have seen a lot of changes for good too. I can still remember when only businessmen had cellphones or laptops and wireless internet hadn't been invented… which makes me feel old sometimes. For people like me how have learning disabilities the education system is much more aware of us and is better equipped to help… or at least more willing. We've come a long way from when we were just called stupid. It's really hard to believe it is only the start of the second decade of the 21st Century.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. As I remember in the last two chapters of Love Hina it is mentioned that Motoko is taking law… and writes 'trashy' love novels as a hobby.

2. The Union Flag, maybe better known as the Union Jack, is the flag of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. The flag is actually a combination of multiple flags. The red cross comes from the English flag, the Flag of St. George, which is a white flag with a red cross. The blue and white comes from the Scottish flag, the Flag of St. Andrews, which is a blue flag with a white saltire. The red saltire on the British flag comes from the old Irish flag (largely rejected by Irish nationalists), the Flag of St. Patrick, which is white with a red saltire. There is a controversy because the current Union Flag does not include anything for Wales. Currently there is a proposal to place a small red dragon in the middle of the flag for the Welsh flag, The Red Dragon Flag (Y Ddraig Goch). Another proposal is to add the yellow and black cross from the Flag of St. David, another flag of Wales. The jury is still out as far as I can tell.

3. The Deputy Director of Intelligence (DDI) is one of the CIA's deputy directors and he/she is in charge of the analysis of intelligence. Although the DDI is called a Deputy Director, this person is in charge of intelligence gathering through listening posts and others ways and analysis of the intelligence. It's just called 'deputy' because the DDI is also one of the deputies of the CIA.

4. The Deputy Director of Operations (DDO) is like the DDI. This person is a deputy director of the CIA. Also the DDO is in charge of CIA field operations. They control the field agents, snatch and grabs, assassinations, sabotage, stealing foreign secrets, etc. The kind of things you might associate with the movies, but the things in the movies don't usually happen in real life. Most of the CIA agents sit behind a desk either at Langley, in US embassies around the world, listening posts, or in other posts. Only a small minority of agents are trained for lethal action.

5. Kepi is a type of hat. It is circular with a flat top and visor. It's commonly worn by the French military and police. A wool version of the kepi was worn by Union and Confederate soldiers during the American Civil War.

6. A pantograph is a device on trains that collects electrical currents from an overhead wire.

7. Vice Admiral Horatio Nelson, 1st Viscount Nelson, 1st Duke of Bronte, was a Royal Navy flag officer who served most notably in the Napoleonic Wars. He fought in many naval battles from between 1771-1805. His greatest and most famous victory was the Battle of Trafalgar in which he defeated a combined Spanish-French fleet. Despite being outnumbered and outgunned Nelson defeated the French and Spanish destroying 1 ship and capturing 21 others without losing a single ship of his own. Tragically, Lord Nelson died in battle. He is considered the greatest naval hero in the Royal Navy.

8. In Morse Code, or blinker light messages which is different type of Morse, AAA is just sending the letter 'A' repeatedly. It is meant to get someone's attention that there is a message coming. They are usually sent in three groups of three.

9. Service caps, or peaked caps, are worn by soldiers. Many militaries allow soldiers to wear beret instead on most occasions, some evens are considered too formal and require caps. The Japanese don't normally wear berets. They are thought of as being for special forces mostly. Enlisted soldiers caps look a little different from officers' caps. The officer cap is usually peaked at an angle while the enlisted cap's top is level. There is also added decoration to an officer's cap and enlisted ones look plainer.

10. American salutes are done this way. British salutes are done with the palm facing the person you're saluting.

11. This is the hiragana alphabet in its order. The characters in parentheses are characters that come from a mark on the character. For instance if you have 'Ha' and place a small circle on it called 'maru' you get Pa. Characters like 'Kya' are usually not listed because it really is 'Ki' followed by a small 'Ya'. Cha is Chi followed by a small Ya. Since Chi si part of the 'T' row it is sometimes written as Ti and Cha is therefore sometimes written as Tya. There is another character 'O' sometimes spelt Wo to distinguish it from the vowel, but it can't be used in a name or word. Wo can only be used as a partical in a sentence for instance: Osushi o tabemasu (I eat sushi). There is also 'N', but there really isn't a Japanese word that starts with 'N' when you could use 'Na' or 'Ni' instead. N would normally be used at the end of a word like 'Shin' or 'Ten'.

12. Ainu are an indigenous group of Japanese. Ainu that were native to Honshu are believed to be all dead, but the Hokkaido Ainu and Sakhalin Ainu are still alive. The Soviet Union deported pretty much all of the Ainu from Sakhalin along with the Nihonjin also living in Sakhalin and the Kuril Islands.

13. Nikkeijin is someone who is Japanese, but not born in Japan and usually is not a Japanese citizen. For instance I'm a Nikkeijin because I'm Japanese, but I was born in the United States and have lived in the US my whole life.

14. A klaxon is an electromechanical horn used on trains, trucks, ships, and other vehicles. They tend to make very distinctive noises. Most people can easily tell the difference between a train or truck horn from other vehicles because of this device. On ships that 'ah-wooga' noise is produced by a klaxon. I've also seen klaxon used as a verb, but I'm not sure if it is a correct usage.

15. The Yamanote Line is a complete loop. In other words it goes full-circle. It is the busiest line in Tokyo since it goes through the busiest stations and areas in Tokyo. Since it is in a loop the trains aren't referred to by north, south, east, or west bound, but clockwise and counter-clockwise.

16. I did not make this up. Children's World is not only real, it's still there today as far as I know. The Lubyanka is the current headquarters of the Federal'naya Sluzhba Bezopasnosti (FSB; Federal Security Service).


	14. Chapter 14: A Late Response

Chapter 14, the first chapter that I started writing in 2010. It's kinda funny that we've reached the year that the first story took place in.

Thank you Dark-Infinities for you reviews and kind words. I was pretty sure I said that Harima uses an old American-built Colt M1911A1, a .45 caliber single-action semi-automatic handgun that was standard issue to the United States Armed Forces from 1911-1985. It's still used by Delta Force and there is a proposed M1911A2 for special forces. There is a version called the ME (SOC) Pistol currently being issued to Marine Force Recon. The Colt 45 is also my favorite gun. It is also still popular in the military as an alternative to the Berretta M9. Also thank you leaving a tasteful comment on my first lemon.

Yasuke Hiro, hope I've helped you some. Let me know if you need anything else.

I was also looking at some things and I noticed I've made an error in the way military formations are named. A unit like a battalion does not get its own individual number unless it is an attached support battalion like artillery, engineers, etc. The fictional unit the 27th Infantry Battalion should actually by 2nd Battalion, 81st Mechanized Infantry Regiment because they are the second battalion of the regiment. In short hand that is 2/81 MIR. A brigade also doesn't get an individual number so they would be the 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 6th Infantry Division. Regiments and Divisions do get their own number.

A division is usually made up of three combat brigades and one aviation (helicopter) brigade. The brigades usually have three or four combat regiments (infantry, armor, cavalry) and then support battalions like artillery, medical, and engineers.

I don't own any copywrite or trademark items. Please leave a review or tell a friend.

* * *

**Chapter 14: A Late Response**

"Anyone who has ever looked into the glazed eyes of a soldier dying on the battlefield will think hard before starting a war."

Otto von Bicmarck; Prussian General, unifier of Germany and first Chancellor of Germany, and a man I personally admire

**0300 Hours; April 6****th****, 2012; Rammstein Air Base, Kaiserslautern, Rhineland-Pfalz State, Federation Republic of Germany**

US Air Force C-17 took off from the main base of operations for the USAF in Europe. This was the first of several that would follow later.

Major Ned Lusby, commander of the 2nd Battalion of the 75th Ranger Regiment, surveyed his rangers. Rangers were elite direct action special forces like their Marine Corps counterparts Marine Force Recon. Rangers mainly served as infiltrators, raiders, and other special operations. They were qualified for deep covert operations, but more delicate missions and black operations were usually handled by the Green Berets. Speaking of which, some of the 10th Special Forces Group, part of the Green Berets, had units already in the Balkans (1).

The Rangers had orders to do what they do best, insert and wreak havoc. Most importantly they were to open the way in the Yugoslavian air-defenses for the 173rd Airborne Brigade.

"Sgt. Parks," he said looking down at a young woman.

"Yes, sir?" said Sergeant Lisa Gibson Turner. She had just graduated from the MFF (Military Free Fall) School where Rangers, Green Berets, SEALs, Force Recon, and other US Special Forces learned to HALO/HAHO and other special methods of parachuting into AO (Area of Operations). Before that she had trained at Survival, Evasion, Resistance & Escape (SERE) School and Pathfinder School. Her specialty in Ranger School had been squad leader and demolition. She was highly qualified for the mission… but this was also her first mission.

Lusby wasn't happy to give a full squad of 10 to someone who'd never been in combat. Lusby's first been in combat in December 1989 in Operation: Just Cause, the invasion of Panama. Since then he'd been in Operation: Desert Storm, Kosovo War, and Afghanistan. He'd started as a Staff Sergeant and lead a squad to clear the way for elements of the 82nd Airborne Division to Tocumen Air Base. In his opinion the Panamanians were pack of pansies since they were defeated in a matter of weeks.

"You ready, Sergeant?"

"Rangers are always ready to lead the way," responded Turner. She had the attitude of a Ranger, though a little nervous, but it was her first mission. She'd even responded by using a slight variation of the Ranger's motto: Rangers lead the way.

Lisa Turner was a 24-year-old woman from New Haven, Connecticut. She had three brothers and was the youngest. Her father had been a Ranger and had served Vietnam and Grenada. Her grandfather had been a Ranger in World War II, Soviet-NATO War, and Korea. She carried an old Colt 45 which had been a gift from her father when she joined the Army after graduating from Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut. It had been used by her grandfather.

"This is your first mission, you ready for it?" asked the Major.

She smiled, "Major, my Pappy's first battle was D-Day."

"Jesus," said Lusby. He checked his watch. "30 minutes to the jump-off point. Check your gear."

"Sir," she nodded. "Squad 3, weapons check."

"Ma'am," said 10 Rangers. Most of her Rangers were armed with FN SCAR carbines, but she had two M249 SAW light machine guns. She also had two AT4 anti-tank weapons and three FN40GL grenade launchers in her squad.

The FN SCAR-L was a new carbine introduced in April 2009 by the Belgian company Fabrique Nationale de Herstal for SOCOM. It looked a little like the old American M4A1 that it was intended to replace, but it had a side-folding stock. There was another version called the SCAR-H which fired the larger 7.62x51 mm cartridge instead of the usual 5.52x45 mm cartridge. The US 75th Ranger Regiment was the first and so far only larger unit to officially adopt the SCAR-L.

An Air Force Master Sergeant, the load master of this C-17 Globemaster III, came into the cargo bay. "We're approaching the jump-point. Everyone ready?"

"Hoo-ah!" responded the Rangers with the Army battle cry (2).

The cargobay was depressurized slowly. The load master shut off the bay's lights lighting only a couple of red backup lights which would be much harder to see from a distance. The rear ramp lowered.

Lusby watched his Rangers prepare to jump. 1st platoon would jump here, 2nd and 3rd platoon were on different planes heading for different jump zones. The green jump light came on and he watched as 40 Rangers disappeared into the night.

"I never get use that watching that," said the Master Sergeant. "Takes all kinds."

"Yes it does," agreed Major Lusby. He would be returning to Germany to command his Rangers. He'd only come to see them off.

Turner was gliding to her LZ (Landing Zone). She had free-fallen 8,000 ft and had then deployed her chute to glide about 29 miles to a farm field. She landed smoothly just like in MFF School. She folded up her chute and watched as the rest of her squad landed. Two soldiers had hit the ground immediately after her and 10 more were on the way. Her squad had 10 Rangers, but a two-man sniper team was attached to her unit for the mission. She checked her M4A1 to see if anything had been damaged during the jump. Behind her a radio-op and grenadier were doing the same. Her fire team hit the ground next and then her assault team.

"This is Baker 3-1, all Baker 3 make final weapons check. Over."

Her fire team both of the SAWs, an SCAR-L, an M14E3, and one of the AT4s. Her assault team had the other AT4, two M1014 semi-auto shotguns, two SCAR-Ls equipped with FN40GLs, and two M16A5s. With her command team was armed with three SCAR-L carbines, one with an FN40GL. The sniper team had an M24A3 bolt-action sniper rifle and an M4A1.

"Baker 3-2, get me command," Turner ordered her radio-op.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Whisky Whisky Tango, this is Baker 3-2, do you copy, over?"

"Baker 3-2, this is Whisky Whisky Tango, go ahead, over."

"We are at the LZ and ready to commence with operation. How copy?"

"Solid copy, Baker. What is your SITREP?"

"All ready, over."

"Good job, trooper. Proceed as ordered. Report any activity you encounter. We'll be in contact, how copy?"

"Solid copy, sir. We are Oscar Mike (On the Move/moving out), out."

She checked her watch. It was 0439 Lima. She was actually 6 minutes ahead of schedule, but being early wasn't exactly a good thing always.

* * *

**2040 Hours; April 5****th****, 2012 (UTC -4); Pentagon, Arlington County; Commonwealth of Virginia, United States of America**

**Eastern European Standard Time (UTC +2): 0440 Hours; April 6****th****, 2012**

Breached.

It was a word that made generals' and admirals' blood run cold… and boil with rage. It was a question of who and fingers were being pointed at the KGB already. There was no proof, but it was the most likely. China had an effective intelligence community, but they had no close ties with Yugoslavia. The same was with Cuba, Iran, Venezuela, and Libya. None of these countries were fond of the United States, but they didn't seem to have very strong motives by causing the fall of Albania.

"Other than Russia, China is the next most likely nation. They had the resources," said Klara Soo-yong of the Defense Intelligence Agency.

"What about Cuba? They are just next door to us," suggested her collogue Robert Levine.

"I doubt it. Since Raul Castro took charge, US-Cuban relations have really improved. It wouldn't be in their interest to jeopardize their relations like this," said Henry Martin.

"That's assuming this was recent," said Soo-yong. "We know it had to have been after 2005 and mostly likely before the end of 2011."

"Iran maybe," suggested Levine. He was just throwing around theories to see if they came to anything.

"You ever heard of them pulling off something this big?"

"North Korea?"

"They've infiltrated Japan and South Korea, but it's much harder for them to enter the US. They also don't come across as that computer savvy," said Martin.

"And we've ruled out that the Yukes have done this themselves?" asked Levine.

"Pretty much. The BIA has been very closely watched since the attack on the President."

Soo-yong shook her head. It has to be the KGB. They have the resources and they have the relations with Yugoslavia," said Soo-yong.

"Most likely, Klara," agreed Levine. DIA handled military counter-intelligence. The three of them weren't the counter-intelligence directorate, but everyone the Director could get his hands on was put to this task along with the actual CI guys. The FBI and Department of Homeland Security were also investigating if it was just the military that had been breached.

Deeper inside the Pentagon was a large room that resembled NASA mission control. It was actually one of a few rooms in which the United States Armed Forces were commanded from. This one belonged to the USAF.

"All Japanese planes have landed, General," said a First Sergeant.

"They made good time," said the Major General. The Japanese 2nd Air Wing had all landed at US bases on the East Coast. They would stay in the US for a 24 hour layover and then continue to bases in Germany, Italy, and Greece. The 3rd Air Group had been the first to land and they would be the first to depart. They would be followed by the rest of 2nd.

In another portion of the Pentagon in a nearly identical room several men and women of the US Navy were hard at work. They were watching a squadron of Japanese ships that was just leaving the Seto Inland Sea. A Mogami Class aegis cruiser with a small group of frigates and destroyers was the first of the 2nd Fleet to depart. It was being followed by a string of troop transports and cargo ships. Like the US Navy, these fleet auxiliary ships were owned by the Navy, but were mostly crewed with military employed civilians.

"All their ships are putting up steam, Admiral," said a Senior Petty Officer. A thermal scan was showing heating coming off the oil/diesel-fire boilers. The steam would power turbines to generate electricity that would power the entire ship, including the engines. In the inland sea they could see larger heat sources from nuclear reactors on the aircraft carriers.

"All those ships," mutter the Admiral to himself. Two entire divisions were being shipped off to Europe. The Japanese were also sending a regiment of marines. They were also watching the progress of the USS Kearsarge (LHD-3) with the 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit aboard which included the 2nd Marine Landing Battalion of the 6th Marine Regiment, 264th Marine Medium Helicopter Squadron, and the 26th Combat Logistics Battalion. It was with a couple of escorts, the fleet oiler USNS (3) Big Horn, corgo ships USNS Alan Shepard and USNS Amelia Earhart, and fleet ammunition ship USNS Kiska.

In a third part of the Pentagon was the Army. The US Army was busy watching Europe. Rangers had hit the ground and were moving into position. Air Force C-17s were getting ready to bring in the 173rd Airborne.

"We could commit some of the 101st if we need to," said a Major General pointing to the display showing the US units in Europe. He was pointing to a brigade of the 101st Airborne Division, the legendary Screaming Eagles.

"I don't think that's necessary," said a Brigadier General. "We just need to make sure that the Yukes don't overrun that last Albanian defensive lines."

There was one port left in Albanian hands. It was south near the Greek border. The United States hoped it would stay that way so they would have a small foothold.

"Italians moved another brigade to their shared land border with Slovenia," reported a female Lt. Colonel.

"What's that bring them up to?"

"A full division."

"Anything else?"

"Germans was increased air patrols over Austria," said the Lt. Colonel. Austria's Air Force consisted of a little over 153, including both fixed wing aircraft and helicopters. Only 15 of those planes, one squadron, were fighters. Germany's much larger air force provided them with a lot of air support. "The Austrians are calling out more reserves. Both countries are very worried they may be next."

"So Greece is calling their guards to duty too?" asked the Lt. General.

"Yes, General. Turkey is sending an armor regiment to back them up," said the Lt. Colonel. That got some raised eyebrows. While Greece and Turkey had been members of NATO for decades the two countries historically did not get along. There was still enmity between the two, but both had things in common. Both owed a lot to the United States who forced the alliance between the two nations and both feared and hated the Soviet Union.

"Sir," spoke up a Sergeant First Class at one of the consoles.

"Yes?"

"Signal from the 2nd Rangers."

"What signal?" asked the Brigadier General with his full attention on the NCO.

"Broadway," he said. The senior officer smiled. That meant all Rangers were in position and ready to strike.

"This them the signal to proceed."

"Understood."

"Sir!" called out a Master Sergeant. "The Air Force says they have a UAV on site and ready to patch through."

"To it. And make sure those grunts get it too."

"Sir."

It was amazing. When he born this was the stuff of science fiction, but he was now watching a squad of Rangers in real-time positioning themselves to strike JNA support-radar.

* * *

**0529 Hours; April 6****th****, 2012 (UTC +2); mountains, somewhere south of Gjirokastër; Gjirokastër County, Republic of Albania**

Staff Sergeant Jake Perez was staring down his scope at their target. He could see the young Sergeant Turner sneaking in closer to it. He was about 250 meters away, but the thermal imagining scope made it easy to see. Everything was in shades of black, white, and gray. He could see the terrain in varying shades of gray. People were warm however and showed up white.

"Baker 3-1, Dakota 5. I count one support vehicle and generator and 12+ guards, how copy?"

"Baker 3-1, solid copy. Keep it coming Dakota, out."

Next to Perez was his spotter who was also observing the enemy, but with a powerful spotter's scope. He was trying to pick out targets.

Turner was about 100 meters away from the enemy. It would be impossible to hunt down and destroy all of JNA's SAM launchers. Destroying the radar support vehicles would be much easy and almost as effective. The radar unit was atop a small ridge next to a farm house.

"Dakota 5, is the farm house or barn occupied by any non-combatants?" asked Turner.

"Unable to confirm at this time. Proceed with caution, 3-1."

"Dakota 6 to Baker 3-1, I have visual on hostiles going in and out of the building. Probably not, repeat, probably not civilian occupied. How copy?" reported the spotter.

"Solid copy. Dakota 6. Baker, out."

She was nervous now. There was no cover on the approach. She could only hope to stay out of sight. He fire team was behind her using a couple of boulders as cover. There was 75 meters between her fire team's position and the crest of the hill. In between there was a plowed field. Turner had never known how hard and exhausting walking across a freshly plowed field was (4).

She held up a fist in the air. The assault team saw this, halted, and laid in the prone. In the green haze of her night-vision goggles she could see a soldier pausing and surveying the field in their direction. She checked her watch. The sun would start rising in about 30 minutes and the 173rd would land in about 40 minutes. She had to strike this radar and then hit another target in that time.

The soldier turned and kept walking. He didn't have night-vision goggles and couldn't see her or her team. They moved forward and to her relief they reached grass. They were 30 meters from the farm house. She took one last survey and then ran for the backside of the building.

She looked back. Her fire team was invisible without night vision. They could put out some impressive automatic fire if need be.

Turner then realized her mistake. She was stuck behind the house with sniper team and fire team both facing her direction. She should have gone around the hill and gone up from a different side. Then her fire team could have drawn out the enemy and she could storm the vulnerable radar array. It was too late now, she didn't have enough time to flank.

She moved to the edge of the house and took a peek around the corner. There were two Yugoslavian soldiers holding M70 assault rifles, Yugoslavian clones of the AK-47. One was smoking. Neither of them were looking her way.

"Dakota 5, Baker 3-1, do you have a visual on the middle compound?" whispered Sgt. Turner into her mic.

"We have visual on the compound and can see hostile movements as well as your position, over," reported Staff Sergeant Perez.

"Make some noise. Pick one of them off and draw them into the open," ordered Turner. Perez outranked her, but she was the squad leader.

"Wilco (Will Comply). Standby…" said Perez his voice trailing off as he picked out a target. He saw a soldier walking around a little behind the radar array. "Target acquired."

His spotter relayed some info to him: range, wind speed and direction, and any other factors that could cause him to miss. The spotter gave him the go-ahead. Perez released the safety on his M40A3 and took a deep breath. As he exhaled he gently pulled the trigger. At 250 m the shot wasn't as loud as one would expect, but the Yugoslavians snapped their heads up when they heard the distinct crack of a rifle. The Croatian rifleman did not hear the shot, he died before he knew what had happened as a .338 Lapua Magnum, the internationally favored sniper cartridge, ripped through his head. He crumbled out of sight.

"What the hell was that?!" yelled one of the soldiers just around the corner from Turner.

"Sounded like rifle. He sounded close," said the second. They had heard shooting in the distance. They didn't know it was other Ranger squads hitting their targets.

"Baker 3-1. No splash. They didn't see the guy go down, but they appear alerted to our presence, how copy?"

"Solid copy," groaned Turner.

"I see all hostiles proceeding to the radar array- Baker 3-1, those too tangos are heading your way now," said Perez seeing the soldiers start walking towards the back of the house.

Turner did some fast thinking. "Shoot the one furthest away from my position."

"Wilco," said Perez. He didn't wait for his spotter.

"Did you hear a voice? It sounded like a woman's voice," said one of the soldiers as he reached the corner.

"Good. Albanian women aren't too bad-" he started, but never finished.

The first soldier reached the corner but looked behind him when he heard the .338 slam into the farm house.

"Zvonimir? Zvonimir!" he cried as he saw his companion lying on the ground. He was about to shout the alarm when a gloved hand went over his mouth and a cold blade went into his throat. Turner felt nauseous seeing her first CQK (Close Quarters Kill).

"Assault team go around the other side. Dakota 5, take out hostiles on the perimeter without alerting them if you can, over."

"Baker 3-4 copies," said the assault team leader.

"Dakota 5 copies."

"Wait for my signal. How copy?"

"Solid copy," both teams responded.

"3-1, 3-4. In position and standing by, how copy?"

"Solid copy. Dakota 5, you are clear to engage. Assault team, hold fire. Over."

Perez fired off one shot and struck a sergeant in the carotid artery. He struggled on the ground as he quickly bled out, but he was unable to call for help. He couldn't even speak.

He picked off a second soldier, but the warrant officer in charge of the squad saw him go down.

"Sniper!"

'Shit, they know were here," thought Turner. Perez could see the enemy was alerted too even at his distance.

"All units, go loud. Weapons free, weapons free," ordered Turner. She selected semi-auto and lifted the SCAR-L to her shoulder and looked down her ACOG (Advanced Combat Optical Gunsight) mounted on her carbine and took hold of the handle grip on the front of her gun (5). She saw a soldier looking the wrong way and popped him in the back. The Yugoslav soldiers were mowed down in seconds.

"Baker 3-4, secure that radar trailer. 3-2, 3-3, follow me to the support vehicle. Dakota 5, Dakota 6, watchover and pick off anything that looks remotely hostile," ordered Turner.

She approached a truck with the radar array's controls in the back. The cab was empty and they swung around to the rear. She opened one of the double-doors with her command team behind her with their weapons trained. She stood clear just in time as the other two fired three shots each.

"Clear," said the radio-op. She looked in to see three radar technicians slummed over their controls. Two more were lying on the floor with Czech made pistols in their limp hands. Blood spatter covered the space.

Turner placed a charge in the full tank and armed it. The little light on the detonator blinked red threateningly informing her that it was ready to trigger a block of C4.

"Baker Leader, this is Baker 3-1. Charges are set and we are ready to proceed to our next objective, how copy?" reported Sergeant Turner to her company CO.

A kilometer away, Captain Ryan Kelly, Baker Company commander, rubbed his temple. He was looking forward to either retiring or taking a desk job in the Pentagon. He was getting too old to be in the field. He was almost 38. He was not entirely pleased with 3rd squad. They were 12 minutes behind schedule. He thought Turner was too inexperience for such an important operation, but he agreed with Major Lusby that 'the girl had to start somewhere and it wasn't like Rangers did anything safe or easy'.

He picked up the mic to his radio and said, "Baker Leader, solid copy. Nice work on destroying that target. 3-1, you're behind the other squads. Double time it to your next objective or mission is scrubbed. How copy?"

Turner flinched. She was a little scared of Captain Kelly. He was an old Irish firebrand and very strict.

"Solid copy. We are Oscar Mike, out."

Turner needed to get to her next target. She needed to destroy another radar site. The one she had just destroyed monitored the valley. Destroying it would allow low flying fighters to slip through and for Wild Weasel pilots to ambush the SAM launchers. Now she was headed up the mountain for a second site. It was higher up and was not obstructed by the terrain. It could see any of the transports of the 173rd Airborne and could zero in the SAMs. The site could turn the landings into a turkey shoot. If she failed to destroy the target then they would have to abort the jump.

Turner realized she was probably moving faster than was wise, but she only had 20 minutes to cover 500 m and destroy the radar.

She slowed down and caught her breath. She could see a patrol of soldiers headed their way. They had flashlights attached to their rifles which messed up the Rangers' night vision goggles. She knew they must have heard the explosion down the mountain. They probably even saw it.

"Four contacts. Pick targets."

"Understood."

"Fire… now," she ordered.

Four shots and four bodies went down. Turner proceeded on. She saw it. But so did the enemy. A burst of automatic fire rattled the pre-dawn air. She heard and felt a 7.62x39 mm round whiz past her ear. She shot back at the muzzle flash.

"All teams, weapons free," she ordered.

"Roger, engaging."

It was chaos as Turner's squad returned fire. She heard the blast of the SAWs and the heavy chatter of the M14 from her fire team.

"Cease fire," she ordered. An eerie silence fell over the area. "Clear?"

"Clear," confirmed Perez.

"Sniper team, fire team, hold. Assault team, forward. Command team with me," she ordered. Turner lead her team around the perimeter.

"Area is secure," reported the assault team leader.

"Baker Leader, Baker 3-1, we have secure second primary objective. Preparing to demo it. How copy?"

Captain Kelly let out a sigh of relief that his company sergeant did not miss. The Master Sergeant understood her CO's feelings. The other squad leaders were needed to hit more difficult targets.

"Captain, other squads are reporting to be in final positions."

"Thank you Master Sergeant," said Kelly. He picked up the radio mic, "Outstanding, 3-1. You are clear to exit your current AO (Area of Operation). Proceed to next waypoint and wait to be relieved. Report any unusual you encounter. How copy?"

"Solid copy, Lead," said Sergeant Turner. She checked her watch. She had time to make it down the mountain to a watchover position on the crossroads.

"Be advised Baker 3-1, there will be an Air Force UAV working your AO. Operator's callsign is Green Stalker. Use it at your discretion. How copy?"

"Solid copy, Baker Leader. We are Oscar Mike. Baker 3-1, out."

When Turner next reported to her CO she was lying prone on a hill with a good view of a small river and bridge. It was a four lane highway with a road intersecting with it.

"Hey, Lisa," Corporal Michael Park the assault team leader tapping her on the shoulder. She looked up at the young Korean-American. "I got eyes on incoming planes."

She looked up the direction he was pointing in. "Globemasters?"

"Looks like it," said Perez using a pair of binoculars. They could see three C-17s, each holding a platoon, heading in their approximate direction. Perez even saw some Phantoms flying over them. They were probably Wild Weasels. Even though the support radars were destroyed, SAM launchers had their own radar, but they had shorter range and would also mean giving away their exact position.

"Chutes opening," said one of the Rangers. Those who weren't watching the road for enemy movement were watching to see if the paratroopers were going to make it. The lead transport ejected a dazzling rain of flairs and chaffs to confuse any missiles.

They watched as the soldiers of Company C, 1st Battalion of 503rd Airborne Infantry Regiment descended to the earth.

It occurred to Turner to check her ammo and removed the clip from her gun. She was surprised to realize she hadn't even emptied the entire magazine. She'd been in her first battle and had only fired 28 rounds. She removed the two remaining bullets and loaded a fresh clip.

* * *

**1525 Hours; March 6****th****, 2012 (UTC +10); JFS Sutsuru, 1,200 km north of Guam; Pacific Ocean, International Waters**

**Eastern European Standard Time (UTC +2): 0625 Hours; March 6****th****, 2012**

Chief Petty Officer Ohara Miyuki was wandering the massive supercarrier. The Sutsuru Class was clearly based off the American Nimitz Class, but was even larger. This was her first time aboard a carrier and she was very lost.

The carrier seemed to have shuttered as a fighter took off. Even though they were using electromagnetic catapult, like the American's new Ford Class carrier, it was still very noisy. One could hear a plane taking off anywhere on the ship with the exception of the engine room. People were not allowed on the flight deck with protection or the noise would deafen a person.

She looked at the designations on the door. Most of them had a letter and number designation. She walked past enlisted sailors in their blue work clothes and wearing dark-blue caps with the carrier's name and number written on it. Also sailors in blue coveralls who were probably engineers, electricians, or construction mates. Finally she saw someone in a khaki uniform, which were worn by NCOs and officers.

"Ano, sumimasen, Master Chief," said Ohara.

"Hai?" said the man looking behind him to see the young female NCO. He looked her up and down. He noted she had no ribbons other than the basic ones for naval personnel. "Atarashii ne (New, right)?"

"Boku wa (I'm) Master Chief Petty Officer Takanishi Kenji," he said. He then tapped the symbol on his rank insignia which showed his specialty and role on the carrier. "Air traffic controller."

"Chief Petty Officer Ohara, navigation. I'm looking for Lieutenant Hinamori," she said.

"Momo-chan?" he said. "Oh, you're her new aide, ne?"

"Hai," she said snapping to attention. 'Momo-chan?'

"She's a nice kid. Follow me. I know where to find her," said Master Chief Takanishi.

He walked up a steep set of stairs. Ohara wondered if this was a personal friend of her superior. Ohara had joined the Federal Navy hoping to see the world. She had learned about Lieutenant Junior Grade Hinamori Momo, the most decorated woman in the Japanese Federal Armed Forces, during training and how she had saved the Sutsuru while being wounded and had been awarded the Order of the Rising Sun 2nd Class. Ohara had originally had hoped to be assigned to the bridge crew, not as an officer's aide. She had nearly fainted when she learned whose aide she would be. She had met Vice Admiral Byuten last night and was told she would report in today to her new CO.

"What can you tell me about her?"

"Momo-chan?"

"Hai. You sound like you know her."

"Ie, betsu ni (No, not really). She's a friendly girl. Very well liked by the officer and chiefs. She doesn't really come across as the military type, but she gets the job done," said Takanishi. He personally thought she was kept around because she smoothed out the rough edges of the Admiral. She was like his public relations. She not only good at talking with the ship's officers and chiefs, but also in communication.

"Anything else?"

"She can't shoot," he laughed. "She can use a gun, but isn't good with it. She looks small, but I've seen her hold her own in a fight. Her training is signal officer. She's in college paid for by the Navy. She speaks English and is learning Russian. Other than her training is signal officer, there isn't much else."

He pointed to a door ahead with a sign saying 'exit'. "I'm off to the bridge. She'll be out there."

"Arigato gozaimasu, Master Chief," she said saluting.

He nodded and walked off. Ohara opened the bulkhead door and was assaulted by the wind. The carrier was doing 33 kt, its full speed. She saw a Lance Corporal, one of the Marine guards, patrolling the balcony-like deck. Further down was a Petty Officer 3rd Class standing watch for any aircraft or submarine periscopes. Also were two Seaman, machinists, who were smoking cigarettes. In the other direction was a young petite female officer.

The officer wore two silver bars of a Lieutenant. On her collar was the mark of a signalman. Ohara took a deep breath and approached the officer. The officer was busy looking out at the fleet with a pair of binoculars.

"Lieutenant Hinamori?"

"Hai?" said the Lieutenant looking up at her. She had wide brown eyes, shining brown hair, and sweet smile. Ohara felt taken aback. She'd had not known what to expect, but she did not expect this. Hinamori was adorably cute almost like an anime character… almost. Ohara was wondering if she was expected to give her superior a hug or a salute.

"Chief Petty Officer Ohara Miyuki," said Ohara snapping to attention.

Hinamori returned the salute. Her smile faltered a little. "Weren't you supposed to report to me an hour ago?"

Ohara suddenly got nervous. She bowed low and said, "Sumimasen, ma'am. I couldn't find the bridge."

"So desu ka?" said Hinamori politely. "The Sutsuru is one of the biggest ships at sea."

Hinamori went back to scanning the seas.

"Are you on watch, ma'am? Perhaps I can help," said Ohara wanting to make up for disappointing the petite brunette.

"Ie, this is not duty related. You don't have to help," said Hinamori vaguely. Ohara picked up a set of binoculars and followed her gaze.

"Is there someone you know on that oiler?" asked Ohara trying to be helpful.

"Eh? That's an oiler?" asked Hinamori in dismay.

"Hai, ma'am. I think it's the JFNS Uketorinin… hai, I see the name written on the bow (6)," said Ohara.

"Aww," she moaned. Then she frowned. "The Uketorinin is out of position then. They should be further ahead."

"Who are you looking for?" asked Ohara.

"Watashi?" she blushed and smiled. "I have a fiancée out there."

"Oh," said Ohara. She nodded in understanding in the connection that women all over the world seem to share. "Is he a sailor?"

"Ie, he's Army. We went to high school together," said Hinamori.

"I see JFS Kunisaki, but that's a Marine transport."

"I see a Date Class transport," said Hinamori pointing.

"I think that's JFNS Kyori," said Ohara.

"That's 10th Infantry Division. I'm looking for the Hanabira, 27th Infantry Battalion of the 6th Infantry Division."

Ohara scanned the horizon. She could see a vehicle transport for the 28th Armor Battalion and… "I see it. Behind the Hiei."

Hinamori looked to the Haruna class helicopter destroyer JFS Hiei and saw it. The transport was too far away to see if anyone was on deck. She smiled. It was comforting to her to be able to see where she knew Captain Hitsugaya Tōshirō was.

* * *

**1557 Hours; March 6****th****, 2012; JFNS Hanabira, 1,500 km north of Guam; Pacific Ocean, International Waters**

"Let it all out," said Kenji patting Haruki on the back.

"Ugh…" groaned Haruki. Kenji had experience at sea. When he was a second year in high school he had given up completely on school, the girl he had loved at the time, and his new manga career. He had gone to sea on a deep sea fishing trawler, experienced the ocean, and an ocean storm. He'd even saved a man's life before the captain kicked him off and forced him to return to his work as an artist. He was very grateful to the old seaman. Kenji heard a rumor that the captain was sailing around the northern Sea of Japan and was intercepting Soviet radio transmissions for the Naicho (7).

Haruki did not have Kenji's experience at sea. Nor did many of the others. Half of the battalion was seasick. This was the first time for most the new recruit on ship. Even most of the veterans had never been on the open ocean which was proving to be very different from the Korean Strait.

"You Army dipsticks still alive?" asked a marine walking by while on patrol. He seemed to be highly amused at the Army soldiers' state.

"Fuck you," said a soldier from D Company in a hoarse voice. The poor corporal looked like he was going to be sick.

The marine laughed and kept walking.

"How long to Europe?" asked Haruki, his head hanging over the side.

"About two weeks," said Kenji.

"Great," moaned Ikuro Miyu.

"Don't worry," said Kenji holding onto Haruki so he wouldn't go overboard, "you'll be use to it long before then."

Kenji handed Haruki his canteen and made him drink so he wouldn't be dehydrated from throwing up. Fiona was seated against the bulkhead and holding her head. The pills the corpsmen had handed out to everyone seemed to be working on her and a few others, but she was getting headaches from the pills. Yamako Ichiro, a former helicopter door gunner, was mostly fine. Being at sea was a little different from being in the air, but he'd adapted after a few hours.

"You guys want to go below deck?" asked Ichiro.

"Ee, ii idea (Yeah, good idea)," agreed Kenji virtually picking up Haruki and Kazu under each arm. 5th Squad picked themselves off the deck and followed them down.

"I think the next movie is coming up soon," said Ichiro. The military knew a bored soldier was a danger. So they made sure that the Army soldiers would have lots to do. They had mandatory exercise drills, then the platoons would work in shifts helping clean the Hanabira, they would also go on patrols to make sure the battalion was behaving themselves, and in their free time they were offered activities. They had three rooms set up to play movies, there was a library, and there was no shortage of board games or decks of cards. Most of the time the soldiers were either too seasick or too tired to do much else but sleep after all the workouts their officers forced on them. Hiroyoshi knew that was done on purpose.

"Eiga wa nani (what is the movie)?" asked Hiroyoshi.

Yamako pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and examined it. "Shinkai Makoto's master piece Kumo no Mukō, Yakusoku no Basho (Beyond the Clouds, the Promise Place) (8)."

"And what does our resident expert have to say," asked Ichigo supporting himself against the bulkhead as they walked. As a manga artist, Kenji was considered an expert on all things manga, anime, and video games despite the three being very different. Although anime and manga were related, cousins was the word Kenji used, they had very different aspects especially in production.

"Saa, I've seen Byōsoku Go Senchimētoru (5 Centimeters Per Second) and Kumo no Mukō, Yakusoku no Basho. There is talk that Shinkai-sensei will be the next Miyazaki Hayao-sensei. Miyazaki-sensei is quite old, like 71, and there is concern he may retire soon which will be a huge blow to the anime people. The anime industry hopes he'll be to fill that void, but Shinkai-sensei has only produced two movies and he doesn't have the international fame the Miyazaki-sensei (9)," said Kenji. "His movies are also very different, not really the fantasies Miyazaki-sensei is so famous for. Byōsoku Go Senchimētoru is really a slice-of-life and is about growing apart."

"What else is playing?" asked Hiroyoshi.

"Jugoku Kōshien (Hell Stadium), a live-action 2003 film directed by Yamaguchi Yudai based on a manga by Man Gatarō. A comedy/action/martial arts. Get this," laughed Ichiro. "They fight zombies by playing baseball."

"Such a boy film," groaned Miyu. "What else?"

"Last option is foreign film," said Ichiro looking at the paper.

"Sounds promising," Ichigo.

"The Bourne Identity, an American 2002 action/spy film based off a novel by Robert Ludlum, directed by Doug Liman, and starring Matt Damon. Matt Damon is pulled out of the Mediterranean Sea by Italian fishermen when he was found floating unconscious. He discovers he has psychogenic amnesia and has no clue to who he his other than a Swiss bank account number. He discovers he is Jason Bourne and that he is a CIA assassin. Highly received by American audiences, this Japanese adaption is Sony Pictures Entertainment. English audio, Japanese subtitles."

In the end they sat down to what the Bourne Identity. The room was a lecture room where classes could be held, but was set up as a movie theater complete with cheap popcorn on a table in a corner.

Kenji had not seen many American movies. He knew they were popular. America had one of the biggest movie industries in the world and was mostly unrivaled. Fiona had told him that most Americans didn't like foreign movies, they had no patients for subtitles.

Kenji was watching as Matt Damon's character discovers his identity is Jason Bourne and he seems to relax. Then he opens a false bottom in his safe-deposit box and found more than a dozen other passports with different names on each of them. Kenji saw British, Canadian, Brazilian, Russian, and more passports. There was probably thousands of currency notes like Dollars, Pound Sterling, Euros, Rubles, and many he didn't recognize.

He watch in fascination as Bourne navigated the US Consulate in Zurich. Many of the soldiers in the room jumped and a few screamed when one of the CIA agents came crashing through Bourne's apartment window. Kenji was rather impressed at Bourne's improvisation using a pen in a knife fight. At the movie's end Kenji realized he was sitting on the edge of the bench he was seated on.

"Holy shit," he said.

"Good, ain't it?" asked Fiona. "There are two more movies after this one. The Bourne Supremacy and the Bourne Ultimatum."

They had to go on deck patrol next. Kenji walked up and down the starwort side of the upper deck. He could see the massive carrier JFS Sutsuru with a cruiser trailing it a little to its left. He saw two planes take off. There were lights flashing. Blinker lights used to send messages without use of radios or wireless transmissions.

Kenji didn't know how to read the message, but it was being aimed at Haruna. He could only guess the destroyer was signaling back to the flagship. Kenji looked up at the stars. Being out at sea and far from a major city he could seem them very clearly.

'Is that a shooting star?' he wondered. Kenji stared at the white streak miles above him. The 'star' was however orbiting the Earth. Shooting stars were space debris that were superheated when entering the atmosphere. What Kenji had actually seen was the sun reflecting off someone in orbit. A Soviet Almaz reconnaissance satellite was monitoring the Japanese 2nd Fleet. They were too far from the Soviet Union and too deep into waters frequently patrolled by Americans for land-based recon planes. Additionally the Soviets wouldn't risk their Navy to tail a massive Japanese fleet in friendly waters near US air bases, even if they were rapidly expanding and expect the completion of their first supercarrier (10).

* * *

**0920 Hours; April 7****th****, 2012; Daniil Moskovsky, northeast of the Northern Marianas; Pacific Ocean, International Waters**

Daniil Moskovsky was a Soviet Shcuka Class nuclear submarine. It was known in NATO as the Victor III, the third and final version of Project 671 to be put into service. 16 of the Yorzh Class (Victor I) Class boats were built, 7+ Syomga (Victor II) Class boats were believed to have been built, and 25 or 26 Shcuka (Victor III) Class boats were built.

The Victor IIIs were supposed to be better than the Victor II, whose production was halted when the KGB discovered the US Navy had no problems tracking them.

Captain 2nd Rank Ivan Alexeiyevich Semenov was tracking the Japanese 2nd Fleet's movement. He'd been on station monitoring the movements of American ships going to their 'imperialist colony' of Guam. They had then gotten as signal via their toed-array sonar informing them to go to periscope depth to receive orders. He'd expect them from Counter Admiral Katiska, his squadron commander, or maybe Admiral Korov, commander of the Tikhookeanskiy Flot (Pacific Fleet). But the message didn't come from Vladivostok, home of the Soviet Pacific Command. It came from Moscow Central, the command of the Soviet Armed Forces, specifically from Political Administrative Officer of Soviet Naval Command.

'What the fuck does the GRU want to do with this information?' wondered Semenov. He shrugged it off. It wasn't his job to question his orders, but he couldn't help but wonder what military intelligence wanted.

Next to Semenov was Captain 3rd Rank Boris Nikolayevich Orlov of the KGB Third Directorate. He was the Zampolit (Political Officer). The Party's watchful eye and voice of the Party and in theory the voice of the people since the Party in theory was the people. In the Soviet Navy every ship had at least one Zampolit, especially missile submarines. They were usually the rank under the ships officer, but had the political power to overrule the commander. Zampolits were feared by enlisted soldiers and despised by officers.

"Comrade Captain, I think it would be best if we were to approach the surface and use the periscope," suggested Orlov.

Semenov rolled his eyes and said curtly, "Boris Nikolayevich, we are in the middle of their fleet. Such a move would expose us and place us in a very unappealing position."

"But Captain-"

"We know what they are doing through our passive sonar. Going to periscope depth alone would be risky," said the Captain. They were under a thermal layer. Water settled in specific layers of heat. Sound had a hard time trying between layers these layers. Normally this would be a problem, but they were in an area where cold water from the North Pacific met the South Pacific currents which allowed them to hide. The surface ships would have a hard time hearing the Soviets.

"Don't worry, Comrade Zampolit," assured the Captain with a grin. "Those little yellow bastards will never detect us. We are the men and women of the proud Soviet Navy."

Orlov smiled and nodded, satisfied with Semenov's answer. Orlov had no love for the Japanese, nor did many Russians. He'd heard about the Japanese great technology, but he understood that only their elite and royalty classes had access to them. In high school both men were taught that the Japanese were a puppet state of the Americans and that they worshipped an emperor and that the working class lived in small squalid apartments in appalling conditions. He doubted they would be able to detect them.

Commander Kobayashi Misaki would disagree with them.

"Midori-kun, distance to Victor III 20?" asked Kobayashi.

"800 Meters, Skipper," said Master Chief Petty Officer Takada Midori, the senior sonar technician.

JFS Sankashio had been following the Daniil Moskovsky for nearly a day. She was a Sameshio Class attack submarine. They were larger than her American, British, and Soviet counterparts because they had to accommodate vertical launch tubes for cruise missiles, but the Japanese were used to crapped conditions and it was only 20 meters longer than the Los Angeles Class, which was 110 meters longer. The Japanese had designed these ships to be heavily armed, quiet, and fast. It could fire cruise missiles to kill surface ships from its vertical launch tubes and submarines with her torpedo tubes. Most submarines only had bow mounted torpedo tubes which could be used to fire torpedoes, decoys, mines, or cruise missiles. The end result was a submarine that was better armed to take on surface ships and quickly defend itself from hostile submarines, but an expensive submarine that were rather crapped. They were very hard to detect at a run up to 20 kt, unheard of for any submarine or ship, but sonar would be very ineffective at that speed.

The Victor was cruising at 14 kt to keep up with the surface groups. He (11) was deep enough into the thermal layers to avoid detection from the surface combatants. But the Sankashio was on the some thermal plane as the Moskovsky and he was making plenty of noise.

Master Chief Takada smirked listening to the reactor plant of the Victor. The Japanese didn't exactly love the Russians. The Great Soviet Bear loved to push around what they viewed as the 'Imperialists' Puppet States'. These were countries like Israel, Norway, Kosovo, South Korea, Philippines, and Japan. When Japan had gone from the Self-Defense Forces to the Federal Armed Forces the military was suddenly given a lot more leeway to harass the Soviets.

"Victor III number 20," read a junior sonar technician. The United States Navy had started using a computerized system that could ID sounds and tell them what it was. It was far from perfect but it worked most of the time. But nothing would ever replace professional sonar techs like Takada who were trained to recognize the sounds of reactor noises and sounds from the propeller blades. "Victor #20 is the Daniil Moskovsky. Commissioned in November 1988. Soviet number K-414. Ship captain: Semenov Ivan. Ship Political Officer: Unknown. It also says there was a fire on board on September 6, 2006 and two sailors died."

"How the hell did we get that info?" asked a Petty Officer 2nd Class. "Don't Sobietojin (Soviets) cover up this kind of thing?"

"Who knows," said the Petty Officer 3rd Class.

"Only two sailors died?" asked Takada mildly. "If we shoot Skipper we can send more than two men to their deaths."

"Tempting, but Tokyo would have my head and ass on a platter for some kind of oversight committee," said Commander Kobayashi. During the War the Sankashio had sunk several Chinese merchant vessels bringing troops and munitions to their invasion force in Japan. They'd also taken a few submarines too. Most of the crewmen had battle experience and had long wished to eliminate the Soviet submarines that plagued Japanese waters.

"The Victor is too easy to track. Only thing louder are those fucking Alfas. Those things kill my ears listening to on passive sonar," complained Takada. She was 38 and had been with the Skipper for over a decade. She had long ago earned the right to speak beyond her paygrade.

Commander Kobayashi patted her on the shoulder. "Those tin cans above us can't hear our friend. We're going to chase her off."

"Aye, Skipper," said Takada. "Those surface dipsticks could run over my daughter's stereo and wouldn't hear it."

The two petty officers next to her laughed. They were going to do what was the submarines equivalent of sneaking up behind someone and shouting 'BOO!!!'. They would quietly sneak up on the Victor and then lash them with their active sonar.

"Turn on the active sonar," ordered Kobayashi.

"Aye, Skipper," said acknowledged Takada. She powered up the active sonar system which took a few seconds.

"Make it as aloud as you can so those surface boys and girls can hear. Also we might make Ivan wet their pants," said Kobayashi,

"Aye, Skipper. Commencing Yankee search."

"Aagh!" cried a Michman, a Soviet Midshipman and rough equivalent of a Master Chief. He had ripped off the headphones he'd been wearing while listening to the tow-array passive sonar system. Now he was writhing on the ground in pain.

"What happened?" asked a shocked Lieutenant. The other sonar technicians hadn't been listening to the toed-array system, but they didn't have to. Everyone aboard could hear the lash of active sonar waves.

Captain Semenov stormed into sonar with Orlov shadowing him. "What was that?"

"Sonar," groaned the Michman. "From an enemy submarine."

"Comrade Captain!" shouted one of the sonar-men. "I hear a sonobuoy being dropped."

"Understood," said Semenov. He was seething with anger. He would have to abort his mission. Now that the Japanese knew he was here they would harass him to no end. They may even force him to surface and capture his submarine. "Control, this is the Captain. Flank speed and bring us to course: 039. We're returning to the Rodina (Motherland)."

* * *

**2000 Hours; April 6****th****, 2012 (UTC -4); Langley Air Force Base, Hampton; Commonwealth of Virginia, United States of America**

**Chamorro Standard Time (UTC+10): 1000 Hours; April 7****th****, 2012**

Langley Air Force Base is one of the largest air bases in the United States. It was strategically positioned just west of entrance to the Chesapeake Bay, immediately north of the city of Hampton and the port city of Newport News. Newport News was a big commercial port and had ship building yards for merchant vessels and many ships of the US Navy, including the new Ford Class carriers. Across the James River is the major port city and naval yard of Norfolk. The area of Hampton, Newport News, Norfolk, Portsmouth, Little Creek, Virginia Beach, and the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay was known as Hampton Roads. Langley was tasked with defended the vital shipping lanes, construction yards, commercial ports, naval docks, submarine pens, marine barracks, and the bulk of the US Navy's and Marine Corps's striking force on the Atlantic.

"Okay, we're going into town. This is be the last chance we have to see the Beikoku (America)," said Major Tsumoto, the 201st Fighter Squadron's commander. "Behave yourselves. I want all of you back on by 2400 Hours Lima. And go easy on drinking. The Colonel will shit you all a brick. You don't want to fly to Europe with a hangover."

"Hai, sir!" shouted back the 15 pilots under his command. The ground crews were probably being wasted right now, but they didn't have to fly the planes tomorrow.

Nara put on his B-class uniform: light blue shirt, black tie, dark blue tunic, black trousers, and black shoes. He donned his peaked cap: dark blue, black visor, and a gold Chrysanthemum.

They took a bus into Newport News.

"Ja… ima wa, nani (Well… now what)?" asked 1st Lt. Gatou Kosuke.

"Wakaranai yo (I don't know)," laughed Nara.

"Can anyone read these signs?" asked 2nd Lt. Takemoto Ayamu.

"Eto… chotto (a little)," said 2nd Lt. Kugashi Nobuyuki. "It appears to be a club of some kind."

The four pilots stuck together as they wondered down the streets of the old Virginia port city. Nara was a little disappointed to see this street was full of new modern buildings and not old ones from before the 20th Century. Nara didn't know that most of the city was built after 1881 and that Newport News was incorporated into the Union in 1896. Before hand, from 1634 when the area was colonized by the Virginia Company, Newport News didn't exist.

Nara realized how uncomfortable he was in foreign countries when he first gone to Europe. The Germans had been pleasant, but Nara didn't speak anything other than really bad English. It was very difficult to communicate with the Germans since the languages they spoke other than their own was French and English. There were also a number of Arabic speaking people in Germany too. That something that had surprised him. The West was really diverse. Japan and Korea were made up of Japanese and Koreans. America was made up of Europeans, Asians, Africans, Hispanics, and many other people couldn't even identify.

"This looks like a restaurant," said Nara.

"Honto (really)?" asked Takemoto.

"Hai," said Nara.

They entered what appeared to be a bar and grill. There was a young woman at the door with a pleasant smile. "May I help you?"

"Uh, yes… my 'egurishu' is bad. I like to eat with my friends," said Nara in his best English.

"Of course. Table for four?" she asked.

"Eto…"

"Four people, yes?" she asked holding up four fingers.

"Yes, onegaishimasu… I mean please," said Nara. He was turning red and felt embarrassed.

"So where are you from?" she asked when she had them at their table.

"Nihon… ano, you call Japan," said Nara pointing to the flag on his upper sleeve.

"Really? Where in Japan?" she asked sounding excited.

Nara had to think for a second to figure out what the question meant. "Yagami. In Kanagawa Prefecture. Kugashi-kun is from Tokyo. Gatou-kun is from Sapporo, Hokkaido Precture. Takemoto-san is from Hamamatsu, Shizuoksa Prefecture."

"Wow, that's so cool. I've always wanted to see Japan. Well, I'm Sarah, and I'll be your waitress tonight," said the young woman.

"Sankyu (thank you), Sarah-chan," said Nara in broken English. She giggled, handed them menus and walked off to help others.

"She seems excited," said Kugashi looking other at Sarah. She was a rather beautiful girl, probably around 18 with brown hair and brown eyes.

"She seems to like Japanese," said Gatou, the other one who could speak some English.

"Can you blame her?" asked Takemoto. They all laughed. "Jā, what the hell does this thing say?"

"Eto, steak, salmon, hamburger, crabs," said Nara reading down the menu. He was uncomfortably aware that the people at the bar were looking at them curiously. Looking around the bar, Nara saw there were flags, photos, and other memorabilia. He realized that he was in a city surrounded by sailors, airmen, and marines. Above his table was a photo was a bunch of pilots crowed around an F-15E Strike Eagle with a caption on the frame that read: Saudi Arabia, 1991. Above it was a similar photo of pilots in front of an F-4 Phantom with the caption: Da Nang, 1967. Next to it a photo of naval aviators in front of another F-4: USS Enterprise (CVN-65), 1966. A fourth photo of pilots in front of an old A-1 Skyraider with the caption: Cam Ranh, 1968.

What caught Nara's attention were the last few photos. A photo of a few pilots in front of a couple of F-86 Sabers with the captain: Johnson Air Base, 1950. Johnson Air Base was now called Iruma Air Base when it was returned to Japanese control. Nara had flown out of that base. Then there were pilots on a carrier deck with an F6F Hellcat and the captain: USS Enterprise (CV-6), 1944. The Hellcat had at least 17 little Japanese flags below the cockpit showing its pilot had shot down 17 Japanese planes. He looked at a photo of pilots standing next to some P-51D Mustangs in England.

"You like those pictures?" asked Sarah.

"Eh? Oh, yes. We are Japanese Air Force so it is interesting," said Nara.

"Yeah. Those all have relatives of mind. That's my dad in the middle of that picture in front of that Eagle. That's my grandfather in Da Nang. My great-grandfather in Johnson-  
"

"We call Iruma," interrupted Nara.

"Huh?"

"I fly out that base in War two or three times. It is called Iruma," said Nara. It had been the first air base he flew out of.

"I'll remember that," said Sarah with a nod and a smile.

"But these are British," said Gatou pointing to some pilots in RAF uniforms seated on the wings of a Hawker Hurricane Mk I. It said: Church Fenton, England: 1941.

"71st Fighter Squadron, Royal Air Force. They called it Eagle Squadron. Before Japan… uh…"

"Attack Pearl Harbor," supplied Nara with a smile. "We are sorry."

"No, it's fine… well not fine, but… never mind. Before the US entered the War many Americans wanted to fight Hitler so they went to England to help the British. My great-great-uncle joined the 71st."

Nara then saw a frame with four photos in it. The caption at the top read: Able Company of the 4th Infantry Battalion, 442nd Infantry Regiment. The top left photo showed a squad of about five soldiers standing in a destroyed city. It said: Monte Cassino, January 20, 1944. From left to right: Cpl Frank "F.H." Kurosaki, PFC Ted Harima, SFC Ryan Karasuma, Cpl Ben Tsukamoto, Sgt. Saito "Sam" Shinhachi, Pvt. Joe Tanaka, and Lt. Daisuke "Danny" Fujibayashi. Nara could see the very familiar faces in those pictures. Sergeant 1st Class Ryan Karasuma had the same blank eyes as the Karasuma Oji knew, but this one had a small, but friendly smile. Corporal Frank Kurosaki had the same face as the Kurosaki he'd met. Private First Class Ted Harima looked just like Harima Kenji, but his hair was pushed neatly to the side in the common hairstyle of the period. In fact Ted Harima was perfectly clean cut and held himself like a gentleman. Corporal Ben Tsukamoto had a round face with a bubbly smile and wide eyes. His eyes didn't seem a normal color, but it was impossible to tell with the black and white photo.

Next to it was a photo of the same men, but Nara saw some were missing. It was photo it the caption: Dachau, Germany; May 8, 1945. Tanaka and Fujibayashi were missing from the picture. Shinhachi was a captain, Kurosaki a lieutenant, Harima a staff sergeant, Tsukamoto was a sergeant first class, and Karasuma a major. Nara knew it was the day that war ended, but the men didn't look very happy.

Below was a photo in a city that was battered and covered in snow. The caption read: Munich, Germany; January 12, 1948. Nara saw the same Japanese-Americans, a Hispanic-American with some kind of star on a chain around his neck, an American officer, and a German soldier with blonde hair and green eyes. They looked very tired and dirty, but happy with their accomplishment. The last one showed the same men, and the one woman, in dress uniforms. The Americans wore brown uniforms and the German wore a grey uniform. Behind them was a big Roman style gate. There was the German, British, American, and NATO flags flying from atop the gate. The caption read: Berlin, Germany; May 30th, 1948.

He knew Karasuma had family in the United States, but he was surprised that Tenma and Kenji also had relatives.

* * *

**0840 Hours; December 16****th****, 1947; southern suburbs, Unterschleissheim; Bavarian State, Deutsche Demokratische Republik/Ost Deutschland**

It had been this day three years ago the Battle of the Bulge started. The last great German offensive of the Second World War. Pryce remembered the terrifying experiences of fighting to St. Vith during the battle. He wondered what the other regiments of the Third Herd were doing. Probably having a grand old time at Fort Knox, home of the US Federal Gold Reverse and the US Army Armor School.

He felt Mauhauser stir a little. They were hiding in a cellar between a bag of potatoes and few wooden boxes. They were sharing an old wool blanket and sticking together for warmth. He'd done this in Belgium to keep from freezing to death or cold related deaths, but with her helmet off and her defenses down he'd never been more aware he with a woman.

'I did hope to meet European women,' he thought wryly. 'But not like this.'

He had to admit he liked the Germans. The English women couldn't cook to save their lives, he couldn't understand a word the Scots said, and the French were just strange. The Germans were a little cold and maybe harsh sounding, but they were smart and hard working people. He remembered one German telling him that Prussia was the first country in Europe to have 90-percent of the country literate. He'd also learned about the strict schooling that Germany had which Pryce thought explained why Germans were quite serious… or at least until they reached the bar halls. There he saw Germans who laughed, sang, talked, and told jokes, despite American's view that Germans had no sense of humor. Americans liked to think of themselves of as people of action and beacons of freedom. Germans, to Pryce's surprise, liked to think of themselves as people of poets, writers, thinkers, inventors, and scientists.

He was happy to have seen this country. At worst he'd be working for the Union Pacific Railroad or something. Like most Americans of his time, Pryce would probably never go on to higher education. In fact it was only recently that most Americans finished secondary education. Before 1910 only 20-percent of American students attended high school and only 10-percent of them graduated. By 1940 the number of students attending high school jumped to 73-percent with the majority of them graduating with diplomas.

"My sister is going to be a college student," said Pryce to no one in particular.

"Was (what)?" mumbled the soldier next to Pryce. Her eyes were still closed, but she was showing signs of just returning to wakefulness. Pryce wondered if Mauhauser realized her head was on his shoulder. He also wondered when she last bathed. She smelled like sweat, gunpowder, dirt, and blood, but he was too used to the smell to be bothered. He must have smelled the same, but with the added smell of grease and diesel from a tank.

"I was thinking about home," he said in German. Mauhauser noticed his German was more understandable. Was she getting use to his speech? She decided it wasn't that. He was developing a real German accent and not the strange Americanized version he spoke.

"What is this Wyoming like?" she asked.

"Nothing like here," he said. "There aren't as many trees. Just prairies and hills as far as you can see."

"Was ist prairie (What is a prairie)?" Mauhauser asked vaguely. She was cold. She remembered happier days before the war.

"Plains. Grassland," said Pryce. Mauhauser opened her eyes. Pryce was strange to her. He was roughly the same as her, both being from small towns. But he somehow seemed more worldly than her. Was it because he was foreign? Or because he was older? He seemed rather easy-going and unprofessional for a military officer, but he was also prone to moments like this. He was distant and his eyes looked like he was miles away.

"Do you miss your home?" she asked gently. She understood that. She couldn't go home because of the war and her family was scattered. She couldn't imagine what it was like to fight a war thousands of miles away from home.

"It's not that exactly," he said delicately.

"Then?"

"You ever think about your death?" he asked. Suddenly it clicked for Mauhauser. Pryce and his stupid curse. She realized Pryce didn't expect to live and he would die without ever seeing his home. She was about to say something, but couldn't honestly say they would be okay. She'd learned that Pryce was very good at telling when people lied.

"I don't," she said.

"Oh well. Just as well," he said. He looked at his watch. "We need to get going."

"Jawohl," said Mauhauser. She picked up her rifle and checked her scope for any scratches. Next she checked the Walther P-38 she had at her hip. It was the first double-action automatic handgun and had replaced the more famous Luger P-08 as the standard sidearm of the German military. It fired eight 9 mm rounds. Her pistol had a lighter recoil and she could hit a target with greater accuracy than the M1917 revolver Pryce carried or the M1911A1 that was standardized in his military. On the other hand, Pryce's larger and heavier .45 caliber slug could probably kill with one hit.

They exited the cellar and looked around outside. There was no one in sight. It was dark with thick clouds above. There was a brief break in the weather, but before sunrise and could not have been exploited by the USAAF or RAF. They ducked down alleys as much as possible.

They were almost out of town when they encountered some of the locals that had not yet evacuated.

"Ah, an Amerikanier," said a man. He was with two other men. He looked to be in his 40s and the others were in their 30s. "Guten morgen."

"Guten morgen," said Mauhauser. "Why are you still here?"

"We have wounded," said the other of the three. "We were out looking for Iwan (Ivan)?"

"Ja, we are ready to escape and run for Munich," said the third man.

"Who is with you?" asked Pryce.

"There are about 30 of us. Bitte (please), this way. Best to get in door," said the oldest of the three. "We have six wounded townfolk and two wounded soldiers. There are five Bundeswehr soldiers and one Tommy. The rest are just town folk."

They were taken into the cellar of farmhouse on the edge of town. Pryce saw a priest standing over some bodies with sheets drawn over their faces. Pryce couldn't understand him since he spoke in Latin. While most Germans were Protestants, most people in Bavaria and the states around Austria were Catholics. Pryce was a Protestant himself, a Methodist which was the most common form of Christianity in the United States. He saw the German soldiers. It looked like it was the remains of a squad. There was Stabsunteroffizier, the German equivalent of an American Staff Sergeant, with an MP 40. There were three riflemen with Karabiner 98 Kurz bolt-action rifles and the fourth man with another MP 40.

The British soldier looked up and stood up when he saw Pryce. He wore a white uniform. It looked like the standard British Army uniform, but with a long overcoat and the distinctive turtle helmet that the British wore.

"Bloody hell, good to see someone who speaks English. Even if it is a Yank," said the man holding out his hand. "Lance Corporal Owen Hull, 2nd Engineer Battalion 18th Engineer Regiment."

"A sapper?" asked Pryce seeing the insignia on the man's sleeve and on the back of the helmet.

"Yes, s'r," said Hull.

"Second Lieutenant Elijah Pryce 209th Armored of the 49th Armored Regiment. 3rd Armored Division," said Pryce.

"What happen to ya'r tank, Leftenant?"

"Ivan happened," said Pryce. "I've been trying to get back to Munich with that sniper over there."

"I don't know where these Jerries are headed. I can't understand a word they say," said Hull. "I know that one is speakin' Latin. An' I've seen those two speakin' some kind of language. It's not German."

"I'll talk to them," said Pryce.

"They don't speak English, s'r," said Hull.

"Yeah, but I speak some German," said Pryce walking towards the Stabsunteroffizier.

"Brilliant, Leftenant," said Hull approvingly.

"Hallo, Leutenant Pryce, US Heer (Army)," said Pryce to the German NCO.

"Mein Herr!" said the man snapping to attention. "Stabsunteroffizier Walter Kiesinger, 332nd Infantrie Regiment."

"Do we have a plan?" asked Pryce.

"Ja, Mein Herr. We probably won't make Munich today, but there is an old bunker halfway there. It was built during the War. It might still have supplies we can use, but it will at least be a good place to hide."

"Sehr gute," said Pryce patting him on the shoulder. "When do we leave?"

"Now, if you don't mind," said Kiesinger.

"Lead the way," said Pryce.

"What's the word, s'r?" asked Hull.

"Krauts say there's an old bunker south of here. We're heading there and then Munich. We're going now."

"Right'o," said Hull picking up the Lee-Enfield No. 4 Mk I bolt-action rifle. The Lee-Enfield rifles had an extended internal-magazine to allow for the user to load two stripper-clips into the gun, giving a British rifleman a total of 10 rounds instead of the usual 5 rounds in its German or Soviet counterparts.

Mauhauser was watching Pryce and the Englishman converse. She felt a slight tinge of annoyance to see the Tommy stick so close Pryce. She also was annoyed that Pryce was now ignoring her.

She looked over at the two of them. Pryce was probably happy to speak in his native language. She thought she could understand the odd word. English and German were related languages.

"Stabsgefreiter (Corporal) Mauhauser," said Kiesinger.

"Ja, Herr Unteroffizier?"

"That Panzersoldat (Tanker) may want to know there is a died Amerikanier here," said Kiesinger pointing to one of the covered bodies. She looked over and saw there was indeed a pair of American GI boots sticking out from under the sheet. She peeled it back and saw the blank stare of the dead soldier. She looked at the strange looking man. He had black hair, dark brown eyes, his eyes were narrowed, and his skin was darker than hers. He looked like the people in textbook. Mongoloids or Oriental was the word she recalled being used. People from the mysterious Far East like China, French Indochina (12), and Japan. She'd been taught in school that America was corrupted by all this inferior races mixing… or so said the Nationalsozialistische (13). But she'd also been taught that the Japanese were their Asian Aryan brothers.

"Nisei," said Pryce from behind her making Mauhauser jump.

"Was (what)?"

"Japanese-American. There is a regiment of them, the 442. One of their battalions is still in Germany. He's probably one of them," said Pryce picking up the man's dog tag. "Sgt. Henry J. Koizumi."

Pryce picked up a small talisman tied to his dog tag. By the fell it was a piece of wood with cloth wrapped over it. On it were strange symbols Pryce couldn't read, but they looked beautiful. It was blue with the symbols in gold and white birds.

"What the hell is this?" asked Pryce to himself. Mauhauser couldn't answer since he spoke in English. He pocketed it with the dog tag figuring it could be sent back to his family. He also took the GI's gun, a Winchester M2 carbine. The M2 carbine had been introduced in 1944 as an improved version of the M1 carbine. It was the same gun, but had select fire mode between semi-auto and full-auto. There was also the M3 which was introduced in 1945. In later years the US Army would use the M3 carbine into the 1950s with the M14, which replaced the M1 Garand, in response to the Soviet's introduction of the AK-47 until the mid-1960s when the M16, the US's first assault rifle, was introduced.

Pryce check the carbine and saw it was still loaded. He also picked up three 30-round magazines with .30 carbine copper jacketed round (7.62x33 mm). It would have a better reach than the Soviet Pa-Pa-Sha he'd been carrying around.

One of the Schütze (Rifleman) opened the cellar doors and peered outside. He carefully went out into the snow followed by Mauhauser and a gefreiter (private).

"Stay close to me," Pryce ordered Hull. Hull was the odd man out in this group being the only one who didn't speak German.

"Just don't get killed, Leftenant, or else I'll have to go back to usin' sign language with these wankers," said Hull. Pryce and Hull walked in the middle of the line of people. Kiesinger and a schütze were in front. The other three soldiers were in the rear. Mauhauser was nowhere to be seen, but Pryce figured that was what snipers were supposed to do. There was maybe 50 yards from the house to the trees. Typical of a European town the edge of town was taken up with farmland or pastures. In this case it was a horse corral. The horses were gone though. The owners had probably used them to aid in the evacuation to Munich.

"Hope Kate's watching us," said Pryce.

"Who's Kate? The little g'rl?" asked Hull.

"Yup," said Pryce looking back towards town. No sign of the Soviets.

"Jerry must be desperate if they're sending women to do a man's job," said Hull.

Pryce wasn't so sure about that. His mother made grown-men cower before her. He wondered why men insisted they were stronger, but simultaneously fear women and have sayings like 'hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn'. "I seem to remember Ivan saying they have women snipers that have killed hundred Krauts during the war."

"I h'rd that too, s'r, but that might be Sov' propaganda," said Hull.

"You tell me," said Pryce. "How many friends have you lost to Ivan's snipers?"

Hull went quiet at that. They were at the trees at last. Pryce aided woman and her daughter over the fence at the edge of the pasture. He wondered why these people didn't wear more functional clothes like blue jeans. Maybe that was just his small town roots speaking. He helped lift a stretcher over before following the others into the forest.

Mauhauser walked parallel to the group, but with a little distance. If they were ambushed Mauhauser would be in a position of warning them or providing much needed assistance. She saw Pryce and the 'Tommy' walking with the little group of civilians and soldiers. What was so great about speaking English? She had learned a little French in school, but she didn't remember it (14). She also recalled learning a few words of English, but they had been things like: yes, no, and thank you.

Mauhauser suddenly became alert. Something was out there. She whistled which signaled the others to halt.

'Amis? Tommies? Iwan? Yukes?' she wondered. For all she knew they could be Poles… or worse, French. She peered into her scope for movement, but saw none. She scanned the gaps between trees and spaces by shrubs, the common hiding places. Then she saw it. The barrel of a rifle, but she couldn't tell if it were NATO or Soviet. She decided to relocate and find a better position. She silently crawled up a hill and to higher ground. She saw them now. There were four of them in white uniforms. She took aim when she heard a noise behind her.

**Click**

She froze. It was the sound of a pistol's hammer being cocked. In one fluid movement she drew her P-38 and turned to face her attacker. One hand grabbed her wrist and the other closed on her throat. The handgun fell from her hand and she couldn't breathe.

"Deutsche?" asked the voice.

"Ja," said croaked. Suddenly she could breathe. The man stood up and helped her to a sitting position.

"Sorry about that," said the man. He walked past her and shouted, "Flash!"

Pryce's ears perked up and then returned with, "Thunder!"

"Who?!"

"1st Lt. Pryce, 209th Armored Battalion!"

Pryce saw a man stand up and about 18 others all around them. The leader walked towards them paying no mind to the Germans who were still pointing their weapons at him.

"I remember you," said the man. "That tanker."

"I remember you too, sir," said Pryce saluting Captain Shinhachi. "Good to see friendly faces."

Shinhachi looked at the gun Pryce was holding. He spoke sharply, "Where did you get that?"

Pryce suddenly realized who he was talking to. This man was in charge of the company of Japanese-Americans and was probably looking for his missing man. Pryce pulled out the dog tag from his pocket and handed to the Captain. "I'm sorry, sir. He's dead. The Germans say he died of his wounds. This thing was attached to his tag and I thought it could be returned to his family. I thought it was important."

Shinhachi examined the dog tag. His eyes which on the first occasion looked cold and fierce, but now they looked weary and exhausted. Removed the talisman and tossed it to Pryce. "Keep it. It won't do him any more good."

"What is it?" asked Pryce.

"Omamori," said Shinhachi. "It brings luck or success. That one says: Kanai Anzen. It is to bring good health and protection from illness. Now, who's in charge here?"

"I'd say that guy. We're heading to an old Kraut bunker. I'm just tagging alone with this guy."

"Lance Corporal Owen Hull, Cap'n," said Hull saluting. "2nd Engineers."

"Yeah, I believe your unit is digging trenches around Munich," said Shinhachi waving his soldiers to form up around the group of civilians and for his company sergeant to come over.

"And the 209th?" asked Pryce.

Shinhachi fixed his dark brown eyes on Pryce. Cold as ever, but with something like sympathy and regret. "Sorry, son."

Pryce's eyes widen and his legs felt numb. He wobbled and felt someone grab his arm and steady him. Mauhauser did not understand what was happening, but she knew that this American captain told Pryce something and it had upset him.

"How many?" asked Pryce.

"Maybe two tanks. A third made it back, but not with all its crew. The Brits have one tank left. You're the only office," informed Captain Shinhachi. Munich's situation was desperate. They had three tanks from the 209th Armored, one British tank, and then one more company from the 4th Infantry. They would have to face an entire division. Shinhachi patted Pryce on the shoulder. "Gomen (sorry)."

They started walking towards the bunker. Pryce wondered if Kiesinger really knew where it was. He looked old enough to have been in the Wehrmacht. Pryce looked at the soldiers of J Company, US 4th Battalion of the 442nd Infantry. They had white winter uniforms like the Germans, British, and Soviets had.

Captain Shinhachi had been in Rhineland when his battalion was ordered to fight the Soviets. He knew he wouldn't be sent home and had requested new winter clothing for his company. Shinhachi got brand new winter gear that was white unlike the brown uniforms that was being used by the other divisions.

Shinhachi saw it first. Staff Sergeant Harima raised a hand and pointed to their right. There was a patrol of Soviets walking their way.

"They haven't spotted us yet," said SFG Tsukamoto.

"Form up," ordered Shinhachi.

"Hai."

Pryce took cover behind a tree. He felt so venerable. The Sherman may not have been the best armored tank, but he thought suddenly it was better than a freaking tree.

"Open fire!" shouted Shinhachi. Shinhachi fired a round from his Garand and saw a Soviet go down after being struck in the head. The Soviets scattered behind trees when they saw their platoon leader get hit in the right eye. The Starshina (15) started barking orders to the platoon. He saw a Sjerzant (Sergeant) lean around a tree to fire his rifle, but get hit in the head.

Mauhauser reloaded her rifle after killing the Soviet Sergeant and searched for the platoon sergeant. She picked off a soldier with a DP-28 light machine. She saw a Sharshant Sherzant, literally senior sergeant, who was trying to get things organized.

Shinhachi fired until he emptied his clip and then he rolled behind a fallen tree. He knew they couldn't let that patrol return alive and bring a whole company.

"And just think!" yelled Lt. Kurosaki over the racket of bullets flying overhead. "I had a nice practice in Tacoma working in my clinic!"

Frank Heiji Kurosaki, usually called FH by his friends, was born in Spokane. He managed to get into the University of Portland and completed medical school. He opened a clinic in Tacoma in 1938. On December 9th, 1941 he was arrested and sent to a camp in Wyoming with his family and neighbors. He was also questioned by the FBI about his patients and if he thought any of them were Japanese spies.

"Ara, but you would have been allowed to stay, Kurosaki-sensei," said Staff Sergeant Harima as he loaded a fresh clip into his Garand. "Since the Nihonjin attacked Pearl Harbor after all. Sumi-san, cover the left if you be so kind."

"Hai!" shouted a young man wielding a BAR.

"Ted-han (16), you're Nihongo is too polite for a serg'!" shouted Cpl. Minamoto.

"So desu ka?" asked Harima thoughtfully as he popped a rifleman in the chest. "It can't be helped. My parents raised me to be a gentleman."

Theodore Roosevelt Kenji Harima was a Nikkei no Nisei Amerikajin (Second Generation Japanese-American) born in Seattle, Washington. His family had arrived from the Kanagawa Prefecture in 1901. His grandparents tried to start a bank like the one they'd run in a small backwater town called Yagami, but the larger existing banking firms prevented them from even getting started. Then President Theodore Roosevelt pasted many of his famous trust busting acts which allowed the Harimas to open a bank in Seattle. Although, Teddy Roosevelt wasn't popular in Japan for his interference in the Japanese-Russo War, the Harimas viewed him as a saint for sticking up for the working man and so his father had named Ted Harima after him.

"I think the bastards are going to charge us," said Kurosaki.

"Ee, I believe you are correct," agreed Harima.

The Starshina had managed to get the remains of the Soviets to form up and they saw a few bayonets being mounted. Suddenly a vodka bottle was thrown from behind one from behind of the trees and it landed in front of Pryce who covered his face and ran with Hull right behind him. Two seconds later there was a burst of flames. Pryce had seen the Molotov cocktail used on infantry and knew there was a second or two before it ignited. The original Molotov cocktails were invented by the Finnish soldiers, not by the Russians contrary to common belief. The Winter War between the USSR and Finland the Soviets dropped incendiary and cluster bombs. People's Commissar of Foreign Affairs, later renamed Minister of Foreign Affairs, Vyacheslav Mikhailovich Molotov claimed on radio broadcasts that the Soviets were actually dropping food to starving Finns. Angry Finns would call these Molotov bread baskets and in retaliation they started using bottles filled with alcohol mixed with fuel oils calling them Molotov cocktails.

A second one landed right at Pryce's feet, but the snow on the ground cushioned it and the bottled didn't shatter. Pryce picked it up. He'd seen his friends killed by these things. The Soviets threw them at tanks. The burning liquid would spill into the tanks and would kill the crew and could ignite the fuel tank or munitions.

"I don't believe they have enough postage, Hull," said Pryce with a nasty smile crossing his face.

"In that case Leftenant, maybe you should ret'rn it to the send'a," said Hull.

"How's it work?" asked Pryce. "It can't be too hard. The fucking Soviets built this after all."

He saw Shinhachi and made a dash for him. He dived next to the captain who looked up in surprise at the lieutenant. "Where the hell did you get that thing?"

"They threw it at me, but it didn't explode," said Pryce. "How's it work?"

"It's easy," said Sgt. Harima. "The Soviets fill it with gasoline and vodka. You see that pad strapped to the bottle?"

"Yeah," said Pryce.

"It's got a chemical under it. When the bottle breaks and the pad gets soaked it will react with the fuel oil and it will burn."

"So what does that shit mean?!" shouted Pryce as a grenade exploded nearby.

"No need to be rude," said Harima wrinkling his nose. 'These Caucasians are supposed to be the superior race?'

"Hai, just because you don't understand-" started SFC Tsukamoto.

"Urusai (Shut up)!" bellowed Captain Shinhachi. Pryce didn't know what the irate captain shouted, but it scared him and the Soviets who actually stopped shooting. An eerie silence fell over the area.

The Starshina was not sure what was happening, but it thought that he heard some kind of American war cry. He hadn't lost too many soldiers, but they didn't have an officer to lead them and they had lost two squad leaders.

"Comrade Starshina, what is happening?" asked a rjadovoy (private).

"Ya nee znahyoo (I don't know)," said the Starshina. These men seemed to be Americans were well lead. 'This must be a counterattack. Best we retreat and inform Comrade Major Loginov.'

"What's happenin', Leftenant?" asked Hull as he loaded two stripper-clips of .303 copper jacketed ammo into his rifle.

"No idea," said Pryce firing his carbine. Now he remembered why he joined the armored corps, he couldn't shoot a rifle to save his life. He was good with hand guns, but anything beyond 30 to 40 yards he was unlikely to hit… or at least on purpose.

"They're popping smokes!" called out PFC Takahara.

"Shall we pursue them, sir?" asked SSG Harima.

"Ie. Let's get the hell out of here," said Captain Shinhachi. "Tsukamoto, get the 1st platoon together. We're falling back to this German bunker and then we'll link up with the rest of the company tomorrow. Understood?"

"Sir!" said SFC Tsukamoto. He turned and dashed off towards Kurosaki, but tripped. He rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment before returning to inform Lt. Kurosaki of the situation.

"I swear to Amaterasu-sama," said Shinhachi.

"Mm," grunted Harima in agreement. "Can you imagine what his kids will be like?"

"If they're daughters they'll be in trouble," said Shinhachi.

Benjamin Tsukamoto was a Sansei (Third-Generation), which was very rare in the Nikkeijin community. His family had arrived in the 19th Century, ahead of most of the Japanese immigrants. He had a round face and a wide pleasant smile. He was a very attractive young man, but not in the rugged way in Kurosaki or the refined way Harima was. Tsukamoto was 'cute like a girl' as the others told him. He had shiny black hair, but most distinctly he had wide eyes that were scarlet. Tsukamoto was born in San Francisco, but his family moved to Seattle shortly after his birth. His family ran a small newspaper, but Ben had worked for the Japanese Consulate in Seattle. After the attacked on Pearl Harbor he was arrested by the FBI and was tried as a traitor to the United States. The prosecution however they found themselves unable to convict the scared and confused young man. He was offered a deal, go to a federal prison or joined a new battalion for 'you little Jap bastards' that was going to fight the Nazis. So Tsukamoto found himself amongst several other Nikkeijin going to war.

All were loyal American patriots and therefore had never felt so betrayed in their entire lives. They had been used to the remarks and treatment of minorities in the US. They knew the Chinese-Americans, Hispanics, and African-Americans got treatment just as bad as them and maybe even worse. What made the White Americans superior? They were the majority and as Shinhachi and Harima knew, this was what 19th Century British political philosopher John Stuart Mill called the tyranny of the majority. American was changing though and they knew it. The Internment Camps would force some Americans to face an ugly truth. There was also talk of integrating schools in the US. They knew when white children were forced to face the children of Blacks, Asians, and Hispanics they would see the ugly truth their parents couldn't accept. They were humans too.

An hour later they found the bunker. It was well concealed. It was built into a hill and was probably most underground. The entrance was painted a very dark brown to match surroundings during the spring, summer, and fall. The door was heavy steel and it took three soldiers to pry it open.

"Tsukamoto, Asahina, Noda, on me," said Shinhachi. Two men with M1A1 Thompsons and Sergeant First Class Tsukamoto with his M1 Carbine followed their CO. Typical of a German bunker design there was a sloping ramp that suddenly made a left so a wall faced them. On that wall was a small steel door which would be opened and reveal an MG42. If they managed to get the door open they would have to run 30 ft through a wall of steel and lead. They walked down the concrete hall. A few men had flashlights and used it to search around. Behind the wall was a room. There was a gun rack with two MG42s and enough belts of ammo to hold off an entire regiment.

"Captain!" called a very large man. Pryce had never seen an Asian man that big.

"Nani, Harima?" asked Shinhachi looking curiously looking at a desk with a radio on it. At the top corner was an eagle holding a swastika. There were other bunkers like this one shown on the map and even some armories that Shinhachi had never seen. There was even a few air fields near the Swiss border that the Allies had never found before.

"I think I found a fuse box," said Staff Sergeant Harima.

"Ii (good). Does it work?"

The lights suddenly came on. Harima smiled satisfied and said, "Looks like it, sir."

They went deeper into the bunker. Pryce was amazed that electricity was still functioning. They found sleeping quarters after a while. Judging by its size, Pryce guessed it was probably intended to be used as a barrack or base of operations for maybe a company, around 120-160 soldiers or so.

Some of the Germans were starting a fire in the stove in the barrack. They were using old Nazi propaganda posters stuck to the walls as kindling. Kiesinger stood on a chair to get a photo of Hitler from above the door. He tossed it to a rifleman who removed it from the frame and threw the photo into the flames. The rifleman placed the empty frame into his pack.

Hull was looking through a pack that was left behind by a German soldier during the war. He was curiously looking at old Reichsmark with pictures of various Germans on it. The coins had eagles on it. He also found a badge for a Waffen SS soldier.

"Of course," he muttered to himself.

Mauhauser was following Pryce. She had to admit she was use to being in his company and in some ways she felt responsible for bringing him back to Munich alive… or so she told herself.

"Armory?" asked Pryce reading a sign.

"Ja, a bunker would have one," said Mauhauser. Pryce opened the door and flicked on a light switch.

"Jesus Christ," he gasped. There were enough rifles, sub-machine guns, machine guns, grenades, and anti-tank weapons to equip an entire company. Pryce looked at the racks of rifles. Most of these were G43 semi-auto rifles and several of the STG 44s.

"What are these things?" asked Pryce picking up a STG 44.

"Sturmgewehr 44," answered Mauhauser.

"Sturmgewehr?" asked Pryce. Sturm was German for storm, but like in English it could also mean attack or assault. Gewehr meant rifle.

"They say it will be the future of weapons," said Mauhauser.

"Really?" asked Pryce looking doubtfully at this supposed 'storm rifle' or assault rifle… whatever the hell they are going to call this thing.

"Ja," insisted Mauhauser. She had never fired the thing herself. She primarily used the Kar 98 K and a P38, but she knew her way around the MP40. She had been explained it was like a cross between a rifle and sub-machine gun, but it had just sounded like an automatic rifle with smaller recoil. "I was told that rifles and machine pistols will be made obsolete by this weapon."

"What other wonder weapons are you people building?" asked Pryce jokingly.

Mauhauser didn't notice and answered him seriously, "The Luftwaffe is supposed to have these rockets that can be controlled in flight and pursue another plane."

Pryce broke out laughing, "You can't be serious. That's impossible."

Mauhauser took offense. She didn't like Pryce treating her like a little girl. Come to think of it. "Herr Pryce, how old are you?"

"Eh? 23, why?" he asked perplexed.

"Why do you treat me like a little girl?"

"Do I?" asked Pryce taken aback. "I didn't notice."

"You do. And another thing, I don't like being ignored," she said suddenly.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't know!" she shouted. She looked down at her boots and mumbled, "I don't know…"

She felt Pryce unbuckle the strap on her helmet and lifted it off her head. Her head felt much lighter without the steel helmet. He sometimes forgot he was dealing with a girl. Mauhauser had the efficiency of soldiers much older than herself. He had his grown up with his little sisters and understood the emotional time bomb they could be. Pryce decided that Mauhauser needed to be treated as the young woman she was, but respected as a soldier. Now he just needed to figure out how.

"Sorry," he said sincerely looking deep into her green eyes. She thought her knees were shaking and it wasn't from cold for once.

"For?"

"If my ma taught me anything it is to always say sorry to a woman when she's upset," said Pryce with a wry smile.

"You have a smart mother," Mauhauser said.

"More like forceful. There was never a question of who was in charge," said Pryce thinking back to happier days again. "So, how old are you?"

"Me? Um, I turned 19 last month," said Mauhauser.

"Happy belated birthday, Kate," said Pryce. He gave her a peck on the forehead and turned to walk deeper into the armory.

Mauhauser thought her forehead was on fire. Her rational mind told her that Pryce had meant that as a friendly gesture. He was four years older than her. He was an American and would go home one day. So why was she entertaining romantic thoughts? Mauhauser shook her head.

"Danke, Eli… er," started Mauhauser. She realized she didn't remember his first name. She'd just called him 'Herr Pryce'.

"Eli is fine," said Pryce. He thought Mauhauser just couldn't pronounce his.

She nodded.

"I'm sorry if you think I'm ignoring you, but we are at war with the Soviet Union," Pryce apologized.

"Nein, I'm being stupid," she said waving it off. "I guess you are just happy to speak with others in your own language."

'She's upset because of that?' Pryce wondered. "You could learn English."

"From where?" she laughed. "From you?"

"Why not?" he asked smiling. She was rather cute when she smiled.

"Fine, but until I find someone better."

He patted her on the head and laughed.

"Repeat after me: My name is Kate Mauhauser."

"My nam-eh ist Kate Mauhauser," she said.

"We'll keep working on this," he said sweatdropping a little.

* * *

So ends another chapter. They're coming out a little faster than they usually do. Starting next chapter I'll be changing the way some of the units are numbered. For starters the 81st Regiment: 26th Battalion will be 1st Battalion, 27th will be the 2nd Battalion, and 28th will be 3rd Battalion.

I'm also taking a class on European thought from the 1830s. It's pretty interesting and helps me understand politics a lot more… and I now have a stack of books by Green, Marx, Spenser, Mill, Freud, and Nietzsche for that class. I also plan on including some quotes from my history professor. I think some of you will enjoy them.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. The United States Army Special Forces, usually called the Green Berets, is the US Army's special forces corps. The 10th Special Forces Group HQ is in Fort Carson, Colorado. They operation mostly in Central and Eastern Europe (Balkans included), Turkey, Israel, Lebanon, and North Africa. Officially the Green Berets are three detachments: Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. The 1st Special Operational Detachment Delta, or Task Force Delta, is actually the fourth detachment, but that would probably by denied by the Pentagon.

2. Hoo-ah is said by United States Army, like Oo-rah in the United States Marine Corps, which means as an affirmative answer. In the Navy and Air Force they say Hoo-yah, but it's not as widely known as the Marine's Oo-rah.

3. USNS (United States Naval Ship) is the designation for non-commissioned ships of the United States Navy. USS (United States Ship) is the prefix for US Navy surface combatants and submarines. USNS ships usually have civilians crews, with a couple of naval personal aboard. These ships are usually the non-combat vessels.

4. I speak from experience. It is slow and exhausting. Never assume it is faster than using a road that goes around it.

5. For easier handling in close quarters the US Military is using forward grips. You'll see them commonly on Colt M4A1 carbines and often on M16s in Iraq and Afghanistan. Also they are being used on other guns like the H&K MP5. Usually they mounted on weapons for close range since they reduce accuracy over a longer range. The real advantage is easy point and shoot fighting and an increased control when firing on full-auto.

6. Combatants don't have their ship names written on the bows. Non-commissioned ships aren't military and often have the ship name written on it.

7. It is an old Cold War practice to use fishing trawlers as spy vessels. I actually know a former naval aviator who was a flight engineer on a P-3 Orion. He told me about how they would harass and chase away Soviet fishing boats. They can be used to patrol around coastal bases to intercept radio transmissions, monitor the patrol patterns of aircraft, or sit near entrances to naval yards to watch the movements of naval vessels.

8. Kumo no Mukō, Yakusoku no Basho is a real anime movie directed by Shinkai Makoto, also known for his movie 5 Centimeters Per Second and he is called the 'New Miyazaki' which Shinkai states is an overestimation. Most Americans would probably know it as The Place Promised in Our Early Days and is licensed in North America by ADV Films. It's a good movie and I would recommend it.

9. Miyazaki Hayao is a great director, but he is also extremely famous internationally. His movies have broken several cultural barriers and have brought anime to the general American masses who would not normally watch anime.

10. Neither the Soviet Union nor the Russian Federation has ever built a supercarrier, which is defined as having somewhere around 70,000 ton displacement, designed for ocean operations, and capable of launching planes that simultaneously fully-armed and fueled. The United States has built many and maintains the largest fleet of supercarriers. These are very expensive to build and maintain, not to mention the cost of facilities to accommodate the largest of all warships, with only some oil tankers being larger. The Soviet Union proposed two carriers, Orel Class and Ulyanovsk Class. Orel was cancelled and the Soviets started on two Ulyanovsk Class carriers in 1988. Shortly after the Soviet Union fell and with a total lack of funding the incomplete carriers were scrapped in 1992. Russian has one carrier, the Admiral Kuznetsov, which is a little larger than light carriers, but not a super carrier. The Russian Federation has no funding for a super carrier or even another Kuznetsov Class in the foreseeable future.

11. In a lot of western countries like the United States ships are referred to as a 'she'. The Soviets use the male pronoun 'he'. Intelligence types use 'it' to refer to a foreign ship usually.

12. In 1947 there is officially no Vietnam, Laos, or Cambodia. These countries are still part of French Indochina and the Fourth French Republic. In 1953 the French lose the First Indochina War against the Viet Minh lead by Ho Chi Minh and on April 27th, 1954 Geneva Conference the former French Indochina gains recognized international sovereignty becoming the Democratic Republic of (North) Vietnam, the Kingdom of Laos, the Kingdom of Cambodia, and the State of Vietnam. The Kingdom of Laos is succeeded by the current Lao People's Democratic Republic. The Kingdom of Cambodia (1955-1970) is succeeded by the Khmer Republic (1970-1975), then the Democratic Kampuchea (1975-1979), then the People's Republic of Kampuchea (1979-1993), and then the current Kingdom of Cambodia (1993-Today). The State of Vietnam was succeeded by the Republic of (South) Vietnam until it's defeated at the end of the Second Indochina War and becomes unified with the Democratic Republic of Vietnam and came the current Socialist Republic of Vietnam.

13. Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (National Socialist German Workers' Party), was founded in 1919. If you take 'N' and 'A' from National and 'Z-I' from Sozialistische, you get the party's abbreviation: Nazi.

14. French, a Latin-based language, was the international language for a very long time. At one time most schools in the West taught French. My parents learned French in school when they were in high school… during the 1960s. For several centuries if you didn't speak French you were considered a truly cultured or worldly gentleman in European society. Following World War I the French Empire was beginning serious declining while the British Empire remained fairly strong and the United States was having increasing influence in the world. Businesses were beginning to do things in both English and French, but after World War II English started to dominate. Although the British Empire pretty much ended, the British still had a lot of influence as a superpower and the leader of the Commonwealth of Nations, a trade alliance of the former British colonies and dominions. The United States had risen as the premier superpower. The Fourth French Republic pretty much fell apart and most of its empire was gone by the end of the 1950s, but France did not had continued influence like the British did. It made more sense to speak English and so English by the 1980s was the most widely spoken language. French is still the secondary international language (thought that is threatened by Spanish now and possibly Mandarin Chinese). It is spoken officially in 28 countries including France, Belgium, Haiti, and Canada. It is also spoken in the current French territories like French Guiana and Guadeloupe. Also the former French and Belgian colonies like Somalia, Algeria, Morocco, Vietnam, and Cote d'Ivoire.

15. Starshina is roughly a Sergeant Major. It does not fill quite the same roles in the Red Army or the current Russian Army as it would in the US Army.

16. Han is a number of things in East Asia, but in this case it is '-san' but with a Kansai Region accent, people from prefectures like Osaka, Kyoto, or Nara. Note: this is not to say all people in Kansai would talk this way. Just like everyone in my country's (United States) south does not speak with a Southern accent.

17. The definition of a concentration camp is a camp where non-combatants of a district are accommodated. In other words it is a place where people of a certain type are rounded up and kept isolated generally for rational reason. The word first arises with the Spanish in the late 19th Century referring to camps where they kept Cuban dissidents.


	15. Chapter 15: Futility

This should put me over 200, 000 words. I'm making progress… I think.

I got Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 and beat it in three days. I would have done it faster if I didn't have classes to attend. It was an improvement over Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare, but I think there is room for more improvement. First off, the Russians don't use Russian guns. The only Russian weapons in the game are the AK-47, SVD Dragunov, RPG-7, and RPD. As you have learned from me the Russians stopped using the AK-47 decades ago. In fact I'd say only the Dragunov is still used. The Russian Army does use the RPG-7V, but a lot of units are now using the RPG-29 which is similar to the US Military's SMAW. Secondly, you get blown up and into shellshock mode too often to the point where it's just frustrating. The ending just pissed me off. It takes forever to get through and I was ready to put my food through the TV. Aside from that the game play was good, the graphics were very well done, they have a larger selection of guns and attachments, sound was great, and the plot was good… though with a few holes in my mind. I won't ruin the game for you though, it is a good game and I'd recommend it. The plot is set a few years after the previous Modern Warfare. This time you'll alternate between 1st Battalion 75th Ranger Regiment and Task Force 141. Most of the characters will be new, I'm really upset that Gaz died in the last game. Soap will be making his return, but as a Captain replacing Price and he has a speaking role now. The guy you'll place as is called Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

Just to warn you, there is a level that the Activision offers you the chance to skip for liability reasons. You will have to commit an act of terrorism. This isn't a pretty level and if you have a moral issue with it you can skip it.

I also got a hold of Assassin's Creed II. I'd say this is the best game I've ever played. It takes place in late-14th Century Renaissance Italy. You'll get to be in Florence and Venice. They made a lot of improvements and I can't say I was disappointed in any way by this game. You'll also get to learn more about Subject 16, the guy before Desmond, if you look for the 'Truth' throughout the game (it's not required, but it's worth doing). You'll also learn about the back story behind the Piece of Eden, the origins of the Knights Templar and Order of the Assassins, this shocking conspiracy, and much more. If you love history like me you'll love this part of the game. Also assumingly enough the guy you play as, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, befriends early on in the game Leonardo da Vinci, how cool is that to have you best friend be the legendary inventor/painter/sculptor. If you are a hardcore conservative Christian, especially very conservative Catholics, you will probably find some of this game very offensive. Especially that parts like there is no God and… well I'll let you find that out for yourselves. If you played the first Assassin's Creed you'll remember the hidden blade. In this game you can fight with it and get a variety of moves with it. My personal favorite is leaping from a building and killing a target. You also get buy different swords, knives, armor, and other things. I strongly recommend you try this game.

I watched The Hurt Locker over the weekend. It's the first movie I've seen about Iraq and it is one of the best movies I've ever seen. It's about the EOD (Explosive Ordinance Disposal) Corps and them trying to save lives of Americans and Iraqis. Key word 'trying'. For more information look it up online since I don't think I can do this movie justice other than it is a great movie and has won several awards including Gotham Awards: Best Ensemble Performance and Best Feature Film. Golden Satellite Awards for Best: Motion Picture (Drama), Top Ten Film of 2009, Best Director (Kathryn Bigelow), Best Actor (Jeremy Renner), and Best Film Editing. Also the director Kathryn Bigelow is also James Cameron's (director of Avatar) ex-wife. I also saw Avatar last month. Amazing graphics and I was really fascinated by the military technology. Those duct fan helicopters are actually a pretty good idea, but no one has put one into service for various technical reasons (which means no one has a way to build one that can be safely flown). The plot was used though and I have to say Bigelow's movie kicks Cameron's ass from here to Iraq to fucking Pandora.

I am also very sorry on how long it took for this chapter to be posted. I've been so busy this semester.

To the anonymous review: Thanks for the review. I know I've come a long way, but it's nice to know others agree. My problem is I've never really written much before this and I really had little idea what I was doing. I also started this when I was in high school. Now I'm in college and I have the advantages of learning much more advance things. You'll see that in this chapter about my lessons on European thinkers.

I don't own anything other than a few things, but certainly not any brand-name or corporation. Please leave a review because they remind me someone is actually reading this.

* * *

**Chapter 15: Futility**

"The Devil is powerful because he has good arguments. He wouldn't be any threat if he was always wrong."

My History Professor

**0800; April 7****th****, 2012; Mal i Gribës Mountains, south of Gjirokastër; Vlorë County, Republic of Albania**

Charlie Company, 1st Battalion 503rd Airborne Infantry Regiment 173rd Airborne Brigade, was gearing up to get ready to move out to launch the second day of the counterattack. Helicopters had been ferrying Company A 4th Battalion 319th Airborne Field Artillery Regiment.

"So Bravo and Alpha are going to hold this area for now until 2nd Battalion touches down," said Lt. Colonel Costa, commander of 1st Battalion.

"And will 1st Squadron be scouting ahead of us, sir?" asked Captain Longwei 'Waldo' Zhu. Zhu had joined the US Army back in 2007 and completed his training the next year just in time to join the 173rd Airborne in Italy after they had just come off a deployment to Afghanistan. The next year, 2009, the 173rd was sent back to Afghanistan. Zhu had gone from a second lieutenant to a captain by 2010. This was his first combat deployment since major action had ended in Afghanistan.

"Those Cavalry nitwits are scouting to the north. You're going to the northwest," said Costa referring to the 1st Squadron 91st Cavalry Regiment (1).

"Great. What's our fire support?" asked Zhu.

"4th Artillery will be providing you some cover with their 105s," said the Lt. Colonel referring to the M119 A1, an American version of the British L119 howitzer. "Some 16-Charlies will also be operating out of Italy. Strike Eagles from Rammstein will be operating in the AO too. A-10s are trying to stump the flow of enemy armor to the north. If we're lucky Apaches and Little Birds will provide support. Navy should be out and about too. USS Shiloh is somewhere out there."

That was the nice thing about serving in US Armed Forces. What made the United State Armed Forces so powerful? It is the ability to project the same level of force regardless of how far they are from their homeland.

"Go hunting, son," said Costa.

"Thank you, sir," said Zhu saluting.

Zhu walked to his company. They had a number of Strykers and HMMWVs for this mission. The Stryker was an 8x8 wheeled APC introduced 2002, just before the US invasion of Iraq. The standard Stryker, the M1126 Infantry Carrier Vehicle, came with M2 .50 cal as a primary weapon or a Mk. 19 grenade launcher. As a secondary weapon they carry an M2 or an M240.

"What's the word, Waldo?" asked 1st Lt. Hank Borland.

"We're going to hit some of the advance enemy units," said Zhu. "Some UAVs have pinpointed the JNA recon units. It looks like riflemen and the Yuke's version of the Bimp (2) and BTR. Shouldn't be a big deal as long as we don't run into tanks."

The BMP had a big weakness, the fuel tank. It was very cramped inside because the entire vehicle was taken up for crew and passenger accommodations. The rest of taken up for ammo and the weapons. This left basically no room for a fuel tank. It was almost like an afterthought, but the back doors on the BMP were actually the fuel tank. NATO intelligence agencies had originally thought they thickly armored. Later they realized what it really was and that one anti-tank round to it would incinerate everyone inside.

The BTR was difficult to get out of. Because the engine was in the rear there was not a rear door that was traditional on APCs and IFVs. On the older ones you had to climb out of a hatch on top. Improved versions and later models would have side doors for easy dismounting.

Captain Zhu had two of the M1128 Mobile Gun System, one of the 10 different versions of the Stryker. It didn't carry troops into battle, but they were armed with an M68 105 mm gun, the same that the M60 Patton and M1 Abrams carried, the M1A1 and M1A2 Abrams were upgraded to a M256 120 mm gun. They would make quick work of the old T-55s and have a change against the M-84.

"Get everyone mounted up," said Zhu.

Zhu rode in a HMMWV following the lead Strykers. Another nice feature of the Stryker was that their gun was remote controlled so the gunner was sitting safely inside the APC. Zhu rode in a HMMWV with the armor package. They probably have a slight change against RPGs and landmines, but none against a tank round. The Stryker had similar prospects, but they were designed for the crew to survive a landmine.

"Stryker 1-1 has eyes on hostiles!" announced the lead Stryker. Zhu saw the M2 turn to face a UAZ at the crossroad they were approaching.

"Roger, Red Dog Leader copies. You are cleared to engage, over," said Captain Zhu.

"Wilco."

A burst of automatic fire bombarded the UAZ. The five JNA soldiers inside managed to leap from the vehicle before the engine block was torn apart by the .50 caliber rounds, completely disabling the small jeep style vehicle.

"Gunner, engage!" shouted Zhu up to the private manning a M2 on his HMMWV. "All units, spread out into firing line. Standby to dismount, how copy?!"

"Solid copy!" reported all of 1st platoon. The other two platoons were advancing on different parallel roads.

"RPG! RPG!" shouted the gunner on Zhu's HMMWV. A Serbian had managed to recover an M80 from the wrecked UAZ, which was starting to emit smoke from under the hood. He fired the single-shot AT weapon, which looked like a copy of the American LAW-72, at the lead Stryker. The rocket screeched through the air and struck the protective slat armor, or cage armor. It looked like a fence that was bolted to the APC, but it was cheap and it worked. It was designed to cause an anti-tank rocket to explode before it hit the vehicle. It designed to counter the RPG-7, the most common AT weapon in use, but it would be useless against the RPG-29, SMAW, Javelin, SRAW, or none explosive auto-cannon rounds. Still the GIs inside felt their hearts stop when a rocket exploded next to them and shrapnel slammed into armor.

"More coming!" shouted another Stryker crew. Soldiers were dismounting from a pair of BTR-60s.

"Contact! Enemy infantry dismounting!" shouted the gunner on Zhu's HMMWV as he started firing at the JNA soldiers. There was a yelp and the gunner collapsed after being struck in the face by a 14.5 mm round from the BTR.

"Bring up the 105!" ordered Zhu. The HMMWVs and Strykers cleared the road so the M1128 could have a clear shot.

"Target, BTR, 1 O'clock," said the gunner on the MGS.

"Just shoot the fucker!" shouted several soldiers at once.

"HEAT, on the way."

One of the BTRs exploded. Its armor was no match for a HEAT (High-Explosive Anti-Tank) round. The empty shell casing was ejected from the rear of the turret and an auto-loader slid a second 105 mm shell into the breach. The second BTR fired off smoke grenades to create a smokescreen.

"SITREP," demanded Captain Zhu.

"We have a man down, Captain," said Stryker 1-1. The Stryker armor was capable of stopping a 12.7 mm (.50 cal) round, but a 14.5 mm round had a little too much mass for the armor to stop.

"Is he breathing?" asked Zhu.

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, take him to my HWWMV," ordered Zhu. He turned to his drive. "You are to take him and Johnson back to the rear. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," said the private first class.

"Good man," said Zhu getting out with the company sergeant and a radio-op. "Stryker 1-1, you are now my command vehicle, how copy?"

"Solid copy," said the staff sergeant in the lead Stryker. The soldiers made room for their company CO.

"Okay, move."

"Wilco. We are Oscar Mike, out."

Zhu saw one soldier wiping blood off his face. There was a bullet hole in the armor next to his head.

Meanwhile, Lt. Colonel Costa was watching from a live feed via a UAV. Next to him was his S2, battalion intelligence officer.

"MI (Army Military Intelligence) indicates their main target will be moderately defended," said Captain Ellie Morton. "It's on a major highway so there is a high risk a hostile unit advancing to the front could be there. I strongly recommend you secure good air support, Colonel."

The S3, the operations officer, was looking at the display on a monitor showing southern Albania. "There's some Ghiblis striking a battalion of Serbian tanks north of us."

"How's your Italian?" asked the S6, communication officer. "How about someone we can talk to."

"F-16s are mostly tied up," said the S3.

"We're on the fucking doorstep of the EU," said the S1, personnel officer. "You think we'd have no problem getting support."

"Germans have a squadron of Tornados inbound," said the S3 pointing to a group of blue triangles labeled JBS 7, which stood for 7th Jagdbomberstaffel (7th Fighter-Bomber Squadron).

"Can we get them?" asked Costa.

"We can try," said the S6.

Zhu was in sight of his primary objective. The depot was a warehouse was looked like it was a used originally to distribute farming goods since he could two John Deer tractors. There was a four-lane highway next to the building and a chain link fence enclosing the compound. There was a ditch between the highway and compound. Bags of animal feed and fertilizer had been stacked along this ditch in the place of sandbags. Zhu could see some Urals and stacks of crates. 1st Platoon Charlie Company was driving on a road that intersected with the highway. To his right was a recently plowed field and to his left was lumber yard.

"All units, weapons free! Dismount! Dismount!" ordered Zhu. With a clang the ramps dropped on the Strykers and the platoon was deployed.

"Use cover!" shouted 1st Lt. Borland. "Watch your flanks! Don't go into the field!"

A farm field, especially one just plowed, was a nightmare for both infantry and vehicles since they tended to get stuck and bogged down.

A couple of Yugoslavian soldiers pulled back a blue tarp by the entrance and revealed some kind of ATGM.

"Fagot armed (3)?!" asked one of the Yugoslav soldiers.

"Da!"

"Fire!"

The lead Stryker drove off the road and down an embankment into the field to avoid being struck. Zhu watched the rocket strike an unfortunate HMMWV.

"Hangman Two, this is Red Dog Leader, we have encountered hostile AT missiles. Requesting fire support, over."

"This is Hangman Two White," said the S6. "Red Dog Leader we are working on that now. We're having technical difficulties, how copy?"

'What the hell does that mean?' Zhu wondered. "Soft copy. What do you mean by difficulties, over?"

"This is Hangman Two Actual," said Lt. Colonel Costa. "Friendly fixed-wing air support is currently occupied. We are having problems communicating with a NATO squadron. We do have some Little Birds. ETA 2 minutes, how copy?"

"Solid copy, Hangman Two Actual. Out," said Zhu.

"We have some AH-6s on the way," said Zhu to Borland.

"That's it?" asked Borland as he lit up a cigarette.

"Yup, and those will kill you," said Zhu pulling the cigarette out of Borland's mouth and taking a drag on it himself.

"So will they," said Borland pointing his thumb in the direction of the Yugoslavians. A rifle round struck the pile of 2x4s they were hiding behind. He lit up a second cigarette. "1st squad, move up to those beams and set up your MG!"

"Wilco!" shouted the staff sergeant in charge of 1st squad via radio. "Covering fire!"

The staff sergeant lead part of his squad to a stack of ceiling joists while the rest fired volleys at the Yugoslav soldiers. He directed the soldier in the fire team to set up his light machine gun.

"That should make things easier," said Borland when the soldier placed the bipod on his M240 on the joists and started firing bursts.

"Yeah, now if we can only do something about that AT gun," said Zhu. He realized he lost track of it. "Shit, they must have relocated."

"Clever SOBs," said commented Zhu's company sergeant. "Sir, I think I see our air support."

"Great," said Zhu seeing the black specks in the distance. "This is Red Dog Leader, friendly air support, do you read me, over?"

"Blush 2-3, copies. SITREP, over?"

"We are facing hostile opposition. There is at least one ATGM. Can you locate and destroy, over?" asked Zhu.

"No prob, Red Dog. Anything else you need, over?"

"Yeah, a Big Mac and large Coke be nice… oh yeah and maybe eliminate a few of these guys, how copy?"

Blush 2-3 laughed and said, "Solid copy. Okay, 2-4, form up on my five. Will make a quick pass and then will start tearing them apart. Okay?"

"Sure thing, 2-3."

"Right then. Tally'ho!" shouted Blush 2-4 as he fired two 70 mm rockets into the middle of the middle of the compound. Something exploded, but Zhu couldn't tell what it was.

"Nice shot, Lead," said 2-4. The Little Birds didn't carry much armament or ammo, but they were very fast and one of the most maneuverable helicopters in the sky.

"You see that anti-tank weapon those foot dipsticks are talking about?" asked 2-3.

"Negative, but I see a fuel tank. That'll light up nice," said 2-4.

"Sweet," said 2-3.

"These guys qualified to fly right, Waldo?" Borland asked Zhu. They were listening to the pilots' communications.

"Army aviators," said Zhu shaking his head.

"I see those turkeys," said the co-pilot on 2-3. "Looks like a Spigot."

"Red Dog Leader, we have eyes on your friend. We're going in hot, out."

The M134 Minigun roared on the Little Bird. Hot spent shell casings rained from the small chopper. The Spigot's crew lay on the ground in a bloody mass. A rocket destroyed the launcher and made it unusable.

"Target's down. Red Dog, we're going do one more pass and then we have to RTB for fuel. How copy?"

"Solid copy. Outstanding work you two, out."

"Seems to be going well," said the S3 watching a live feed via a UAV.

"Yup. How's that air support?" asked Costa.

"No go," said the S6. "We can't understand a word they say and we don't have guys in the field that speak German anyways."

"We can't just get a German speaking soldier somewhere?" asked Costa. It seemed with all this modern technology they could just find someone to translate. It wasn't like that person had to be in the same hemisphere, right?

"We got a hold of the Navy, sir."

"Holy shit, that looks bad," said the S3 looking at the monitor. He picked up a radio mic. "Red Dog Leader, this is Hangman Two Green. You have a hostile company closing on your position in attack formation. I count 6+ tanks, 6+ IFVs. Number of foot-mobiles are unknown, how copy?"

"Solid copy. Keep me updated, sir, over."

"Wilco- shit!" shouted the S3. The feed went dead. The monitor was awash with snow and across the screen read: Signal Lost! "Corporal, replay that last few seconds before we lost signal."

"On it!"

"Play it slowly."

"Yes, sir!"

"Son of a Bitch. They shot it down. There goes 10 million tax payer dollars (4)," said the S3 throwing his hands in the air.

"Replay it," ordered Costa. "Okay… freeze it there! Perfect."

Costa looked at the contrail left behind by a SAM and traced it back to its launch platform. "I don't see a mobile-SAM. Must be a MANPAD (Man-Portable Air Defense System) (5)."

Captain Zhu saw the Reaper drone explode in a fantastic shower of fire, sparkers, and debris.

"Well that's just magnificent! Just fucking perfect!" shouted Zhu at the sky. A Stryker exploded and shattered. "Pop smokes and fall back to cover!"

"Where?! There is no cover. In the open for Christ's sake!"

"Pop smoke!" shouted Zhu.

"That doesn't look good, Waldo. Looks like a pack of M-84s or T-72s," said Lt. Borland. "We're out gunned here."

1st platoon was scattering in chaos as tank shells, heavy machine gun fire, and auto-cannon rounds pounded them. The MGS Stryker burst into flames when a 125 mm shell rammed into it.

"Where is that air support?!" asked 2nd squad leader.

"It's a no show!" shouted the platoon sergeant.

"We're so fucked!" shouted a soldier.

"Damn it!" shouted Zhu at the radio mic. "We're dying here! Someone out there?!"

"This is USS Shiloh, does anyone copy, over?" asked a female voice over the radio.

Zhu and Borland froze in shock. Zhu then said, "I don't know who you are, but I love you."

"I'm married," said the Petty Officer 3rd Class wryly, but she had to struggle to not laugh. "Identify yourself, over."

"Red Dog Leader. I need fire mission on my position, how copy?"

The Petty Officer could hear the raging battle in the background. "What is your position, over?"

"Grid: 24 Kilo, 47.981N 51.8913W! How copy?!" shouted Zhu so he could be hear.

"Solid copy, standby," said the Petty Officer. She was starting to become frantic knowing she needed to hurry. She could also hear Zhu cursing fluently. She looked at the map that Charlie Company should be on. "Okay, I have your position. How copy?"

"Solid copy. Barrage, fire for effect!"

"Roger," said the Petty Officer. A Chief Petty Officer entered it into the both of the Mk 45 127 mm guns on the Shiloh. The target was 22 km away from the cruiser, which was nearly the max range of the Mk 45. The Chief Petty Officer held up his thumb. "Fire mission is on the way."

Each gun was capable of firing 20 rounds before having to pause to reload, but they only fired 10 each so they could have a quick follow-through barrage.

In the distance, even though they were nearly 12 miles away from USS Shiloh, they could all hear the distant sound of heavy artillery. Even the Yugoslavs heard it and they were worried. Zhu vaguely wondered how much a 5 inch shell weighed. It had to be light enough that a single sailor could pick it up and load it into the magazine. He could hear the rounds hurtling towards them at a rate of 808 m/s (2,650 ft/s). In short, it took about 27 seconds for the first shell to hit. Zhu never understood why at these moments he thought about these statistics like in officer training when he learned about calling in fire support he was told in the first 20 seconds of a barrage you achieve your maximum kills. This was because you either eliminated the greatest concentrations of your enemies or your enemies were in cover by then.

Zhu and Borland watched as a 45 ton tank was blown over onto its side by the sheer force of the explosion.

"Quite a show," said Borland.

"Yup," said Zhu taking a deep drag on his cigarette. "Nice kill, Shiloh. Standby for conformation, over."

"Roger. Guns are standing by, out."

"You see anything?" Zhu asked Borland.

"Multiple burning vehicles," said Borland looking through a pair of binoculars. "I have eyes on hostile infantry. Looks like their trying to recover their wounded. I can't tell if they're still fighting."

"Better safe than sorry. I'll call in the second strike," said Zhu.

A bullet ricocheted off a lamp post. "Shit their still shooting at us!"

"You think?!" shouted Zhu sarcastically. "Shiloh, Red Dog Leader, second barrage, same coordinates! Fire for effect! How copy?!"

"Solid copy. Fire mission is on the way," said the Petty Officer.

The strike went out. Below deck the gunner's mates were loading shells and powder kegs into an elevator system that would deliver the munitions into the magazine. The USS Shiloh was cruising slowly near the shore with a single frigate as escort. There was a large explosion in the water.

"All hands, general quarters! To your battle stations! All damage control and fire fighting teams to your stations!" shouted the captain over the intercom. More shells from a JNA counter-artillery battery started firing at the source of the barrage they detected.

"Red Dog, Shiloh, we're under attack by hostile counter-artillery. We have to relocate to a safer position. We'll have to relocate to safer position. Be advised, this will require us to move outside range of your position. How copy?"

"Solid copy. Out," said Zhu. He turned to Borland. "We're going to blow this place and then RTB."

"Sounds like a plan," said Borland.

* * *

**1000 Hours; April 7****th****, 2012 (UTC-4); White House, Washington; District of Columbia, United States of America**

**Eastern European Standard Time (UTC+2): 1600 Hours; April 7****th****, 2012**

President Crane was reading at her desk in the Oval Office. She was reading about news from the front and checking her notes from her briefing with the Joint Chiefs, her own staff, the heads of the departments, the Senate Defense Committee, the Intelligence Community, the Senate Intelligence Committee, and the other officers who invited themselves.

It had been a nightmare. Five hours of bureaucrats trying to prove they could do the others' jobs better. The Joint Chiefs grew increasingly irate that a bunch of bureaucrats in Washington were telling them how to do their jobs and the Senators did not appreciate having their responsibilities being belittled by career soldiers. The Senate also served the American people, not the military, and they had to serve the needs of the whole country. The Intelligence Community had a similar problem with the Senate Intelligence Committee because they were often the worst source of leaks when they tried showing off on the cocktail circuit. Still they took flak from the military who complained about them getting bad intelligence, false intelligence, outdated intelligence, badly outdated intelligence, grossly incorrect intelligence, or no intelligence.

In the end she started screaming at them to, "Shut the fuck up or I will personally make your clusterfucks lives so fucking miserable you're grandchild will need antidepressants!"

The President was always been so mild and clean in her speech that it was incredibly shocking and disconcerting to her a barrage of swearing. Senators, secretaries, generals, directors, and admirals couldn't bring themselves to meet her eyes. They could feel the aura of rage and disappointment radiating from their Command-in-Chief.

"I cannot believe I am having to treat you like children," she said in a cold voice. "You are the leaders of this country. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

No one spoke.

"You," said she at the Joint Chiefs. "You told me you could have the situation in Kosovo taken care of. We lost Kosovo and my understanding is that we are not going to be able to hold Albania."

"Now ma'am, that is-" started Admiral Lafley.

"You know my husband was a veteran. He was a lieutenant colonel in the Army. He has friends in the service and friends with kids other there," said President Crane. "The 173rd Airborne in based in Italy. The 2nd Cavalry Regiment is based in Germany. So is the 170th and 172nd Infantry Brigades. I believe the 3rd Armored Division in deployed to eastern Germany. And isn't the 4th Infantry Division being sent out their too? To relieve the 29th who are coming off rotation? And that's just the Army. What about all those Air Force squadrons in Germany, England, and Italy? And the Navy, don't you base your European operations out of Italy? This was on your doorstep!"

She turned to the Senators. "Now you people listen. I understand and respect your jobs as the elected representatives of the people. You serve the people as I do, but you are their representatives and voices, I am just their Command-in-Chief. But you seem to be failing at your jobs as of late. Republicans, what good are you doing trying to stand against anything the Democrats do? That is not governing. That's being childish. Democrats, get a backbone! You think just because Republicans are so unpopular you are innocent? Their unpopularity and incompetence is no excuse for your own disorganization and lack of a direction. Your people are confused. It's easy to blame others, but you aren't doing anything. Independents, what are you doing? You are the moderates! You're not supposed to encourage these dipsticks. You are the middle ground and need to keep Congress on track. This is not the Bush Administration!"

Those words had a huge impact. It was the first time they had ever heard her use the previous President's name.

"It is also not your place to tell the military and intelligence community what to do. You are not soldiers or spies. Serve your country. Not the people who paid for your campaign. I will be passing a bill about that. I know there are corporations who don't want it passed, but you have to remember that while they may pay your bills, you will not get reelected by the people. I'm tired of money being wasted too. We can't afford this. Time is not our friend."

The intelligence chiefs braced themselves for their turn.

"You people. I don't know what you do all day and I don't really want to know. You have a lot of freedom so don't come whining to me! You'll probably do whatever you want whether I like it or not. If you don't want the Senate to blab your secrets then tell the Justice Department. Last time I check that can be construed as treason, a capital offense."

Four senators had been arrested since the Crane Administration had started for leaking secrets of the CIA, NSA, DIA, and other agencies. Three were acquitted, but their careers were destroyed. The fourth was serving in the United States Penitentiary Administrative Maximum Facility, a supermaximum security prison in Fremont County, Colorado.

"I let you people get away with a lot. I am trusting you people. I want to know who this person is that breached us," said the President coldly. She turned in her chair and faced the window. She gazed out onto the Mall. "This person or persons has comprised this country and our allies. They have made fools of us. If it is individuals working independent of a country I want them dead. If it is an ally, then they will cease to be our friends. If it is an enemy… if this is North Korea, Cuba, China, Iran, Libya, Venezuela, Iraq, Syria, or the Soviet Union… I may consider this to be an act of war."

Her mind wandered to the Football. The briefcase that held the nuclear launch codes. Sometimes it seemed so simple to just wipe her problems off the face of the Earth. Her mind next turned to the Soviets. She had trusted the General-Secretary. Who was this? Was it him? Was it the KGB? The GRU? The Red Army? It was Russia. She had no doubts about that.

"Do I make myself clear?" she asked. She sounded tired and weary, but still so disappointed.

"Yes," a few managed to say.

"There was a marine," she said after a pause.

Eyes turned on the Commandant of the Marine Corps. He shrugged.

"He was in Marine Intelligence," she continued. "Very young. Asian. A Master Gunnery Sergeant. James Shinhachi."

The director of the MCIA shrugged. A colonel next to him however recognized the name, but looked uncomfortable. "What about him, ma'am?"

"He seemed competent. Is he in the investigation?"

"No, ma'am," said the colonel. "He's been reassigned to a different unit. He is on the covert side of things, but I don't know much of what he gets into."

She swiveled in her chair to face him. "The rest of you may go. I want him to stay."

They did as directed.

"Talk," she said.

"He's in black ops, ma'am," said the colonel. He knew the President was aware of that much, but he didn't want to go into detail. Even he didn't know all of James Shinhachi's actions.

"I know. In Mexico."

"He does scary things, ma'am. He was reassigned to a cousin of his who worked a joint NATO task force. John Shinhachi, US Army. They're reassigning him too into a new task force under his command and Colonel Shinhachi wanted Master Gunnery Sergeant Shinhachi to work for him," said the colonel.

"Get them on this," she ordered.

"That's not my department."

"Whose then?"

"…"

"Whose?"

"I don't know," said the colonel uncomfortable. "I don't know who they answer to. DIA, most likely. I can tell you that they are probably going to be involved in this."

"I hope so," said the President.

That had been her morning from 5 am to 10 am. This evening she would address that nation about the war. They would soon have to retreat of Albania. All those troops there to stop a supposed Soviet invasion and they couldn't spare a brigade or two for this?

Didn't Gorbachev and Regan declare the Cold War over in 1989?! The Cold War was supposed to have ended on November 9, 1989. It didn't. It was April 7, 2012.

The United States of America and the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic were at their closest to be friends, but still considered each other enemies.

* * *

**0700 Hours; April 8****th****, 2012 (UTC+12); north of the Northern Marianas, Minami Torishima; Tokyo Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

**United States Eastern Standard Time (UTC-4): 1500 Hours; April 7****th****, 2012**

Minami Torishima is the furthest western territory of Japan. Strangely, it was considered under the administration of the Tokyo Prefecture. The island's population was very small, but they did have an airport that serviced the locals and the military. Kenji was on deck to see this last bit of homesoil. They couldn't go near the island though do to the coral reefs.

A single P-3C Orion circled the fleet based out of the Minami Torishima. There were also some Air Force pilots based on the island to intercept and harass Soviet Air Force pilots trying to harass NATO fleet operations in the mid-Pacific.

Kenji couldn't believe he'd been on this thing for another week before they reached Panama. Then two weeks to go through the Panama Canal, Caribbean Sea, and Atlantic Ocean. Then maybe two days to reach Italy. It was a month to the other side of the world. Every day he woke up and realized he was farther away from home than he'd ever been.

They were under a radio silence drill. Major Nara had explained to 2nd Battalion something about suspicion of the Soviets. Kenji didn't get it. Most of his life the Soviet Union was this country that bordered them. He didn't think much about them any more than China before the war. He was taught about how Japan had crushed Russia in the Japanese-Russo War which was a factor that led to the Russian Revolution of 1917. He knew that they took the Kuril Islands which Japan wanted back. He was just vaguely aware they were his nation's enemy because Japan was an ally of the United States, Japan was capitalist and democratic, the USSR is communist, and because they were Russians and Russia had been an old enemy from the start of the 20th Century.

But Kenji and many of his generation didn't really have an animosity towards the Soviets. It was just the hardliners in the right and more radical groups that really seemed to hate them. Kenji did hate North Korea… now. He'd considered them a threat and an enemy even before the war.

Kenji did not hate Yugoslavia. He didn't even know there was a Yugoslavia not too long ago.

He walked down to the mail room. He dropped off a letter home to Yakumo. When they reached Panama the mail would be unloaded and sent back to Japan. The family would be getting a lot of mail when it was sent. He felt bad for the postman who'd be carrying close to 20 letters just to Tenma, Mai, and Yakumo alone.

Next was to go to lectures. Captain Hitsugaya was lecturing them on proper infantry tactics coordinated around armored vehicles. On a chair next to him was 1st Lt. Matsumoto who was passed out asleep. The highlight of that lecture was Hitsugaya losing his temper and kicking Matsumoto's chair causing her to fall out of it. She did not wake up, but curled up on the floor. The Captain threw up his hands and left the room ordering 2nd Lt. Urashima to finish for him.

"Well," started Urashima. He tripped over Matsumoto. He boot tore her tunic revealing a sports bra that was straining behind the size of her bust. Several of the men in the room were not paying attention to the male lieutenant that was struggling to find his glasses that had fallen off when he tripped. Jupei however got up from her chair and helped him to his feet. She pressed a handkerchief to her platoon leader's bleed noise.

"Ah, aragado," Keitaro said… or tried to say.

"Dozo, Lieutenant," said Sergeant First Class Sakashita Akiko, 2nd Platoon's platoon sergeant. She tossed a blanket over Matsumoto. Sakashita was probably the best platoon sergeant they could have found for Urashima. She was orderly, calm, a little motherly, and most importantly she could clean up any of the Lieutenant's accidents in minutes. She stopped his bleeding nose, straightened his uniform, and then dragged Lt. Matsumoto off somewhere else.

"Ah, gomennassai," he apologized. "So, we are now talking about proper coordination with our allies."

Sakashita sat down on the desk Urashima step in front of while speak. She was reading a book. Kenji knew she could snap into action in a moment's notice.

After the lectures they went to lunch. It was ramen… again. There was pork and a fried egg amongst the noodles. A pretty standard meal. For dinner it would probably be curry again. There might be onigiri mixed in to variety. There would also be some foreign food served on alternating days to prevent riots.

"Never gets dull with our officers," said Haruki.

A blank face male sat on the opposite side of the table from the two of them.

"Ohayo, Karasuma," said Kenji.

"Er, ohayo gozaimasu, Karasuma-kun," greeted Haruki less enthusiastically.

Karasuma Oji had been in their class and was Tenma's boyfriend. Kenji seemed to have some kind of kinship with him through their love of curry and manga… mostly curry. Haruki found Karasuma inexplicably strange beyond reason. He also seemed to show up at the oddest moments, like his transfer from the Federal Home Guards to an active Federal Army battalion. Specialist Karasuma was assigned to their battalion S6.

Kenji too found Karasuma strange, but he was determined to get along with him since there was a chance they'd be in-laws one day. Also, Karasuma back in high school was the first person Kenji had… for lack of a better word, befriended. Karasuma did not look down on Kenji or fear him like the others. He had felt betrayed when he found out Tenma was in love with him, but despite all he may have begrudged the strange man Kenji respected him. In the time he'd spent around Karasuma after the war Kenji had started to learn subtle ways of reading him. For instance he could tell that Karasuma was disappointed that there was ramen instead of curry.

Karasuma sat down. He fixed those blank eyes of his on them and nodded in greeting. He removed the field cap and proceeded to eat the ramen… with a straw. Karasuma gave no indication he was the current center of attention in the galley.

"Oishii (tasty)?" asked Kenji.

Kurasuma looked up at Kenji, but made no movement.

"So ka (I see)," said Kenji.

'What did he see?' wondered Haruki. So did the rest of 5th Squad. Hiroyoshi just did what he did throughout high school with them. Ignore them and hope they go away.

"How are things in Battalion?" asked Kenji. Kenji seemed to be not only the only one who understood Karasuma, but the only one who wasn't so distracted they weren't eating.

"Ii (good)," said Karasuma, speaking his first word of the day. "Kenji wa?"

"Ah, you know. Morning lectures are never dull with our officers," laughed Kenji. Karasuma nodded. His eyes never seemed to leave Kenji's face. There were people leaning in to see if there was a change in expression.

Karasuma in high school ate alone. He ate with Kenji because Kenji alone seemed to understand him. In high school Kenji's love for curry was all the reason he needed to consider him a friend. But Kenji seemed to not really judge him. Kenji also seemed to know what he was saying. That was why he had requested the transfer into the same battalion. Strange as he was, Karasuma had spent a lot of time abroad before his high school years and spoke multiple languages including: English, German, Italian, Russian, Albanian, Serbian, and a few other European languages. Major Nara had jumped at the chance to get someone with such a large array of languages for the S6.

"Omoshiroi (Interesting)?" he asked.

"Ee, totemo omoshiroi yo (Yeah, very interesting, I assure you)," said Kenji with a bark of a laugh.

**Crash!**

"Captain!"

"Ie (no)!"

"Give it back!"

"Ie! I'm sick of you showing up to lectures with a hangover! You know I could have you court marshaled or shot?!"

Captain Hitsugaya and Lt. Matsumoto entered the galley. The Captain was clutching a large container, the kind they would strap to HMMWV or the Komatsu LAV (6) to hold extra fuel.

"There's no way that thing is full of sake," said Fiona dumbfounded.

"I'm not so sure with Lt. Matsumoto," said Mori shaking her head.

"500-en says it is," said Ichigo.

"I know better than to bet against that," said Uryu. He and Renji had gone to school with Ichigo, Matsumoto, and Hitsugaya.

"CAPTAIN!!!" she roared as Captain Hitsugaya upended the container into one of the sinks in the galley's kitchen while a Lt. Urashima and Lt. Minegishi Hideto, 3rd Platoon leader, restrained her. SFC Sakashita was quietly eating at a table with the other platoon sergeants. She was seated at the end of the bench and poised to leap into action if necessary. In fact Kenji noticed there was a first aid kit at her feet he hadn't noticed earlier.

"Kowaii (scary)," said Ikuro Miyu.

"NANI?!" shouted 1st Platoon leader at the poor corporal.

"uh… kawaii de irasshaimasu (cute)?" Miyu supplied. The rest of 5th squad nodded vigorously.

"Anō, Lt. Matsumoto, I think you have a problem," said Captain Zakito, D Company leader.

"Looks like Matsumoto is finally getting that intervention," sneakered Renji. A salt shaker nailed him in the head. Lt. Minegishi was thrown aside when Matsumoto threw the salt shaker at the now unconscious PFC Abarai. Lt. Urashima restrained her completely and had her on the ground in one fluid motion. Sakashita was on her feet, but it wasn't necessary. 2nd Platoon's veterans could see the cold steely glare behind his glasses. Urashima was completely in control of the situation.

"Daijobou desu yo (It's fine)," said SSG Asou patting his platoon sergeant on the shoulder. "You weren't with us in Korea. When we're in real danger or someone threatens his platoon he's in total control."

"So ka (I see)," she said quietly. "I never know what to expect with him."

"Mm," grunted Asou in agreement.

"Still, it is the platoon sergeant's job to take care of the platoon leader," she said.

"Daijobou desu ka (Is she okay)?" asked Pvt. Hayasuka Yukari entering the galley.

"Hai, daijobou wa yo (7) (Yes, everything is fine, I assure you)," said Sakashita.

"So desu ka," said Hayasuka sweat-dropping as Hitsugaya started explaining to her she had a problem and this was an intervention.

"This is going to be a long three weeks," commented Lt. Minegishi as Ichigo applied a bandage to the officer's forehead.

"Ichigo, shouldn't you treat Renji?" asked Ikuro seeing the redhead face flat in his ramen.

"That pineapple's fine," said Ichigo.

Karasuma poked Renji in the back of the head with his chopsticks. Haruki frowned and asked, "Ne, Karasuma-kun, shouldn't we move him so he doesn't drown in his ramen?"

Karasuma shook his head. Kenji sneakered. Haruki wondered if Karasuma had a sense of humor and was enjoying this.

Major Nara watched from the bulkhead door. A marine had informed him of a disturbance in the main galley involving E Company mostly. He smiled. This was the mighty 2nd Battalion. These were the best the Federation of Japan had.

"Kami-sama save us all," he laughed.

* * *

**0700 Hours; April 8****th****, 2012; Shinhachi Compound, Kirkland; State of Washington, United States of America**

Jack Shinhachi sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of orange juice. He was watching a CNN report on the President's speech yesterday.

"Ohayo, Jack," said Jamie Shinhachi entering the room. Jamie was staying in the basement of the Shinhachi household. The other members of the family including Jack's cousins, aunts and uncles, and grandparents had offered them their guest rooms, but Jack knew Jamie. Jamie slept most soundly underground and so Jack had prepared the basement for him. Jack had helped him move his stuff down when he arrived. He then helped Jamie hollow out spaces in the walls and floors to hide weapons. Although Jack couldn't swear to it, he was quite sure Jamie had probably dug an escape tunnel by now.

"Morning, Jamie," said Jack. "You going to work?"

"Yup," he answered. Jack was one of the few people Jamie didn't stutter when speaking to outside of work. "I have some paper work and then there is something about zeroing in on some weapons smugglers."

"Is that what they're calling it?" asked Jack. Jamie official cover was a Marine Corps Intelligence Activity operative serving as a liaison NCIS special agent. He did real work for NCIS. A cover wouldn't look convincing if he didn't actually do anything. Jamie mostly handled the highly classified cases.

"Yeah," he answered.

"What is it really?"

"Chinese are smuggling weapons in for their black ops. It looks like a snatch and grab for a double-agent they managed to track to Seattle. This guy gave us a lot of intel on the PLA's operations. I can't go into specifics right now. Not here. Bottom line, we're intercepting their weapons. Best case, the Chinese pack up and go home without gear or weapons," said Jamie.

"Don't leave too much of a mess. We have orders from the top," said Jack.

"I heard," said Jamie heading out the door.

An hour after fighting his way through traffic Jamie arrived at a non-descript office building in downtown Seattle. He passed the security guards at the front desk and went up an elevator. He arrived on floor run by NCIS's Seattle Branch Office.

The Naval Criminal Investigative Service was the primary federal law enforcement agency for the United States Department of the Navy. They acted like a Navy version of the FBI, though they would not appreciate that comparison. Their roles included law enforcement within the United States Navy and United States Marine Corps, counter-terrorism, primary security, and counter-intelligence. They had other counterparts too including: United States Army Criminal Investigation Command (USACIDC or CID), United States Coast Guard Investigative Service (CGIS), Defense Criminal Investigative Service (DCIS), and United States Air Force Office of Special Investigations (AFOSI).

NCIS's headquarters was located in the Washington Naval Yard in Washington DC. The Anacostia River, that the Naval Yard was located on, was too shallow for ships so it was purely for the Navy's administrative offices. Primary offices were located in or near the major naval yards including Norfolk, San Diego, Pearl Harbor, Naples, and Yokosuka.

Pacific HQ was in Pearl Harbor and a major section in San Diego. There were branch offices in San Francisco and Bremerton. Seattle office was a smaller subdivision office of the main offices in Everett and Bremerton. Seattle office had to be opened because it was the largest city in the state and a lot of naval personnel came to the city. Also there are a lot of families of naval personnel living in Seattle. There were also companies that were under contract with the Navy. But Seattle was also home to the covert operations of NCIS (8).

"Morning, Master Gunnery Sergeant," said a man in a suit.

"Morning, Staff Sergeant," said Jamie without looking at him. His eyes were looked on the morning dispatches from Operations. Jamie was always very well dressed. He entered the high-security area of the office. An area with a sign on the door that warned:

Highest Security Clearance Required

Unauthorized Personnel May Be Shot

It was no ideal threat. A 9 mm hole in the wall was proof of that.

"Hey, James," greeted an older black man.

"Morning, Lieutenant," Jamie said sitting down in the briefing room. "Where's everyone?"

"They'll be briefed later," said Special Agent Luke Hayward. Hayward was 37 with handsome coffee colored skin, neatly cut hair befitting an officer of the USMC, and unreadable dark eyes. He'd been a Jarhead all his life and was a proud marine.

"I see. So what do you have in store for me?" asked Jamie. His voice contained a dry humor, but he showed sign of emotion. Only a detached look.

"Something that someone with your experiences is good for," said Hayward placing a map in front of him. It was the size of a standard piece of paper and would be easy to carry with him… or dispose of.

"Looks like you want me to go first," said Jamie taking one look at the map. "And capture two specific targets."

"You have most experience in snatch and grabs. We timed the sting so there would be these guys here," said Hayward placing two photographs in front of him. These were small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.

"Mingyu Wong and Wenyan Zhijun," said Jamie. He recognized them without being told. "Chinese field agents operating in the United States. Wong, I believe, is their logistics officer. Zhijun I remember from Afghanistan. He's a lethal action man and usually heads up the strike team. He staged a prison escape to bring one guy back to China for interrogation."

"SECNAV (Secretary of the Navy) wants these men captured. They didn't say why though," said Hayward taking a sip of coffee from a Styrofoam cup.

"I wouldn't ask anyways," said Jamie. He didn't need to know, but he was pretty sure why though.

"The other agents don't know about this. You will go in alone. You must secure your targets and extract before our agents reach the storage unit. If you're caught they may engage you. Take this too. Here are the security cameras, our surveillance cameras, and where the sniper team will be placed. The other agents don't have the clearance to know about this," said Hayward. In short he meant they were doing an illegal snatch and grab. These men were not going into the system where they could get a lawyer or contact the Chinese.

"Oo-rah, Marine?" asked Hayward.

"Oo-rah!" responded Jamie in true Marine fashion.

Jamie went to his office and locked the door. He dropped the shades over the glass on the door and the wall that faced the hallway. His office had no windows to the outside. He opened a closet on one wall. He pulled out some clothes and changed into some jeans, a cheap grey buttoned shirt, and a brown jacket. He attached an ankle holster to his right ankle with a small S&W snub-nose .38 revolver in it. To his left ankle he attached his backup knife. In his shoulder hostler he placed two MEU(SOC) pistols, or the M45. These were basically a remake of the old Colt M1911A1 and were standard issue to the Marine Force Recon. At his hip he placed his SIG Sauer P-229, the compact version of the P-226.

Jamie walked down to the motor pool and grabbed a non-script Ford. He started the car and drove up to the north side of Seattle to a storage yard. A place where people rent a storage unit in relative security.

Jamie stopped the car and did a brief scan. He knew where to enter, but it was safe to check unexpected things. No civilians or police officers who could compromise his part.

He put on a pair of polarized aviator sunglasses and crossed the street. He approached a small gate for employees to enter. The security camera was broken here. A local organize crime group had disabled it for their own purposes and the storage company was too cheap to get it fixed. He picked the lock with ease and locked the gate behind him.

The trick here was to be stealthy, but look unsuspicious. In other words he couldn't have visible weapons or body armor on. He pulled out a piece of paper and then started walking. He would scan the numbers on the storage units and look around. If anyone spotted him he would appear to be lost and confused. If he walked around purposefully it would draw attention and maybe suspicion. Someone confused is someone a person feels sympathetic towards and such an emotion tended to override negative emotions like mistrust and doubt.

Sure enough he spotted his targets. Two men standing next to a storage locker. They had parked in between two storage buildings. In a blind spot for the security cameras. This was so they could remain anonymous, but it would give Jamie the same advantage.

"Excuse me, sirs," called out Jamie approaching them. He removed his sunglasses and smiled broadly. He was no longer the nervous awkward nerdy person, he was a soldier in total control. Jamie often wished he could be this person who was confident, charming, and smooth, but he also hated him as a cruel killer, a manipulator, and a fake.

The two Chinese agents exchanged glances. "Yes?"

"I'm looking for this unit. My sister asked me to get her something out for her and I can't find the damn thing," said Jamie laughing and looking a little embarrassed. He showed them the yellow post it. The men took it and turned their backs on him. Big mistake.

In one fluid motion Jamie pulled out an autoinjector (9). He stuck one Wong in the ass. It was the best location to inject a person for most cases. Wong didn't seem to notice the small sting. That was the beauty of injector they used. It only made a small discomfort. Next he stuck Zhijun. Zhijun however seemed to realize something was wrong and turned. But the injection acting too fast. He stumbled. Wong was already unconscious. Jamie pulled out some zipties and bound their wrists and ankles together. Next he took car keys from Zhijun and popped the trunk. With the two Chinese agents inside Jamie drove to the front gate. Wayward had supplied the combination in advance and he punched in the numbers. The gate opened and he drove off the yard around the block to his car. He left the abandoned car. A 'cleaner' would come and dispose of the one security camera image of Jamie. He waited on the hood of the car.

A young woman approached him. He smiled at her in a flirty way.

"Hey, sweety," she purred. She leaned in a hugged him and whispered, "All clear, Altair. You hardly appeared on that front gate cam."

"Good work, Archangel," he whispered. He appeared to grope her ass, but was slipped in Zhijun's keys. "They're in the trunk. You have your orders?"

"Of course."

"Good. We rendezvous at 1830. We have new orders," said Jamie.

"Who's being called in?" she asked.

"All of us."

"Really? I haven't seen the whole unit before. This is going to be fun," she said.

"Just get it done, Probie," said Jamie.

"Sure thing, Gunny," she Staff Sergeant Pamela Callahan.

All in all it was a good day. No one died and not one shot was fired. In Jamie's mind that was a good day. He pulled the badge out from the glove compartment and attached it to his jacket and then drove to join the main team. It would look suspicious if he wasn't there with them.

"Hey, y'all," he greeted.

"Wondering where you were," said the team leader. "Checking the perimeter?"

"Yup," he said with a smile. "Area is mostly clear of civvies. I'd say maybe two or three people. None of them tangos. We probably won't need to go in hot."

"Good," said the team leader. "I want you on top cover."

"Wilco," said Jamie pulled out a walky-talky. He plugged an ear piece and mic so he could use it hands-free. Next he pulled out long pack that he through over one shoulder. "Give me 2, and I'll have you covered."

The leader nodded. Jamie to an abandoned building. He free-climbed up the side of building and made his way inside. He found a nice empty office with an old desk inside. He had a nice view of the storage yard. He opened the pack and pulled out a disassembled rifle. He put together an M24A3. He'd been ridiculed for using the Army version of the Remington 700. He'd been trained to use the M40A3, the Marine Corps version, but it could only chamber .308 Winchesters (7.62x51 mm). Because of the short-bolt on the M40 it could only chamber .308s. The M24 had a long-bolt and could chamber different length bullets. The M24A1 used the .300 Winchester Magnum, the M24A2 used 7.62x51 mm rounds, and the M24A3 used Jamie's favorite, the .338 Lapua Magnum.

He loaded a clip into the rifle, 5 steel-jacketed bullets. The military used FMJ (Full Metal Jacket) rounds. Snipers preferred steel-jacketed ammo because it deformed the least and made it the most accurate FMJ type. It also had the greatest penetration.

"I have eyes on AO, Lead. I see two vehicles and four foot-mobiles. No-tangos. How copy?"

"Solid copy. Bravo Zulu," said the team leader. He had been in the Navy. Bravo Zulu was Navy signal used for to mean job well done. "We're going in. Keep us updated. How copy?"

"Solid copy. Will continued to provide top cover and watch-over from current position. Inform you as necessary. Out."

* * *

**0700 Hours; April 8****th****, 2012; Aviano Air Base, Aviano; Pordenone Province, Italian Republic**

Aviano was the main USAF base in Italy. It was home to the 31st Fighter Wing, a group of F-16C Fighting Falcons. It was located in northern Italy not too far from Venice and was less than 150 km from the Italy's shared land-border Yugoslavia. It had been 1911 during World War I by the Kingdom of Italy to stage operations against the Austro-Hungarian Empire. It was later used by Benito Mussolini and Nazi Germany in World War II against the Allies and Soviets until the British Army captured the base in 1945. In 1954 the US and Italian governments signed a joint-use treaty for the base. Italy was a member of NATO and agreed to allow the United States Air Force to operate planes in northern Italy.

The 201st Fighter Squadron of the Japanese Federal Air Force found themselves stationed here with their American counterparts.

Colonel Brian Kolinsky entered the building the Japanese were using as their HQ. He passed some armed guards who saluted the American officer. He entered their command center. The first thing he saw was a large map of the world. Kolinsky found it was little strange to see a map in a foreign language. He found himself staring at the strange symbols over the United States.

"Beikoku," said an officer.

"Sorry," said Colonel Kolinsky.

"That's what we call America. It literally means Rice Nation, but I don't really know why we call it that. We also say Amekira," said the officer. She held out her hand, "Colonel Kazuko Furukawa, 3rd Fighter Group."

"Brian Kolinsky, Operations Group," said Kolinsky taking her hand and shaking it. Operations Group was the combat group in the 31st. There was also the Maintenance Group, Mission Support Group, and Medical Group.

He looked at the main and saw the strange symbols, which were Katakana, one of the forms of the Japanese written language. It read Itaria (Italy).

"May I be of help?" she asked. She had a slight accent, but her English excellent.

"No. I was just seeing how things are going for our friends from the Far East."

Furukawa smiled and nodded, "Yes. I will be in command of the first combat operation Japan has ever staged in Europe. I have handpicked the squadron, the 201st Fighter Squadron. All the flight leads are… what is word, veterans?"

"They were in the Korean War?" asked Kolinsky.

"Yes," nodded Furukawa. "I was the operations officer during the war, so this isn't my first operation."

Furukawa smiled inwardly. She knew this 'yanki' was here to check up on the Japanese. She wondered if this American would have come running over if he knew a woman was in charge.

"Colonel, White Fox Squadron is turning over their engines," said a lieutenant in Japanese.

"Ii wa yo. Tell them to proceed to taxiway as directed by the Amerikajin in the tower. Do we have an operator in the tower to translate for them?"

"Hai, Colonel."

She walked to the window and looked out. She could see the runway in the distance and sixteen F-15G Super Eagles ready for takeoff.

"White Fox 2-1 you are clear to takeoff," said a Japanese master sergeant in the control tower.

"Roger, 2-1 is rolling out," announced Captain Nara Kentaro. Nara rolled down the main runway with his flight in tow.

"Okay, things are looking good. Altitude restrictions cancelled White Fox 2-1. Proceed to first waypoint. Aviano Control, out."

Nara climbed to a cruising altitude. He'd been warned by the Americans about a horrible incident years ago in 1998 when a USMC electronic warfare fighter, a Northrop Grumman EA-6P Prowler, collided with the support cables of a cable car which resulted in the deaths of 20 tourists: 8 Germans, 5 Belgians, 3 Italians, 2 Poles, 1 Austrian, and 1 Dutch. Apparently in 1961 a French fighter plane caused a similar incident which resulted in the deaths of six people. The Americans warned that cables were very hard to spot until it was too late. Fortunately, modern technology marked these places on their GSP and they were supposed to appear on their HUDs.

Still, Nara took the Americans' advice and avoided flying low through valleys in Italy and Austria. He'd also been warned by his own commanders to not fly into Switzerland, a neutral country that may shoot him down. He was of course warned repeatedly to not fly near Soviet territories like Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, or Czechoslovakia. They assured him a NATO plane would be shot down by Voyska PVO (Protivo Vozdushnaya Oborona; Air Defense Forces) (9). That seemed so unfair when the Soviet pilots always violated their neighbors' airspace.

Nara followed 1st Flight south.

"Oi, mite! Mite! (Hey, look! Look!)," said Takemoto excitedly. "Venice, jā nai desu ka (Isn't that Venice)?"

"Ee, so da to omou (Yeah, I think it is)," said Nara looking down on the famous city. They didn't fly directly over Venice, but they could see its many canals and ancient buildings built at the height of the Italian Renaissance.

Nara could see a pair of Aeronautica Militare (Military Air Force), the Italian Air Force, EF-2000s flying patrol patterns. They cruised on southward following the Italian east coast. It was just the 16 planes of White Fox Squadron flying alone in the warm Italian skies. Somewhere ahead of them was an American squadron with another following White Fox.

It took them over an hour to fly from Aviano Air Base to the Lecce, an Italian city near the Strait of Otranto. Of course they were cruising at about 350 kn (402.8 mph) and had traveled roughly 800 km in that time.

They could turn east towards Sarandë, Albania. It was a sad fact, but the US had only landed the one brigade of paratroopers. They were not sufficient in the face of entire motor-rifle divisions. Like marines, rangers, and most cavalry units, airborne infantry are light infantry and are poorly suited to face large armored units. Additionally, JNA artillery, counter-artillery, and AAA (anti-aircraft artillery) threats have made air and fire support difficult and in some cases impossible.

The port city of Sarandë was still in NATO hands, but it was expected to fall. It was now a matter of getting the city evacuated of civilians and government officials. Nara was told that the US 173rd Airborne would fight for as long as they could to hold the city. They were also promised a regiment of Turkish tanks, but there was a political problem. Greece did not want Turkish soldiers travelling through their country. Turkey and Greece were not particularly friendly countries to each other. Greece had actually dropped out of NATO between 1974 and 1980 because Turkey invaded Cyprus. At best the Americans had Albanian troops, the remains of the Kosovar Army, a company of British Royal Marines, and Italian troops that hadn't been sent north to their land-border with Yugoslavia.

Their orders were to strike targets of opportunity. The squadron had CBU-87 cluster bombs. He'd used cluster bombs and JDAMs before. The cluster bomb was an area weapon meant to destroy columns of infantry and armor. It had no precision to it, but it was good if you wanted to wipe out a large area.

Sarandë did not look good from a distance. Smoke was rising from the city, but most of it was coming from the outskirts.

"This is White Fox Leader, all White Fox callsigns break off into your flights. Engage at will, weapons free. How copy?"

"Solid copy. We are engaging, out."

Nara saw from French planes turning back after dropping their payload on some hills north of the city. He couldn't tell what they had just blown up, but they had dropped some intensive firepower.

"4-1, this is Ryōken Four White," said Colonel Furukawa's operation's officer. "US infantry need air support. They have a platoon of tanks coming down on them. Do you copy, over?"

"Solid copy. I don't have their position."

"Vector: 057. Distance: 1 klick. How copy?"

"Solid copy," said Nara. "Moving to that position. Out."

Nara flew high over the city. It only took a few seconds to reach the position, but Nara couldn't tell who was who.

"Ryōken Four White, I don't have a position. Can you tell them to mark with red smoke? Over."

"Standby… okay you should see it soon."

"Roger, looking for red smoke… you guys see anything?"

"Negative," said Gatou.

"I see lots of black smoke," said Takemoto.

"I see it!" shouted Kugashi. "It's right there. By that train station. Do you see it?"

"Hai, I have it," said Nara. "Shit. Are there civilians in the area?"

"4-1, the Americans sound desperate. They need that fire support now."

"Wilco," said Nara. "Fūjin-sama (11), please do not let us kill civilians."

Nara nosed into a dive. He deactivated the bomb release safety and pickled off a bomb.

"Pickle," he announced. He pulled out and let Kugashi to take his turn. Gatou and Takemoto circled above to observe the effectiveness of the strike. Two bombs soared towards a pack of tanks and infantry. The bombs' out shell broke apart revealing numerous bomblets that scattered and exploded. Looking in the rearview mirror he could see secondary explosion from the tanks exploding.

"Someone tell those Japs: Thanks for the assist," said an American on the ground.

Nara looked around for another target. Suddenly a warning appeared on his HUD. "Shit, radar spike."

"Copy, keeping eyes out for hostile SAM," said Kugashi. He wondered where the source of the S-band search radar was coming from. Smart money said it was from MANPADS. They could hide easily in an urban environment, but they had to go into an open area to shoot, there they were vulnerable. A shoulder-launch SAM, like any rocket launcher, had a back-blast. When the rocket motor ignited it released intense heat which could kill a person if they were standing too close. The same was true if they were in an enclosed room where the heat couldn't dissipate. Anti-tank weapons could shoot indoors if there was sufficient space, but an anti-air weapon obviously needed a clear view of the sky.

"I lost the spike," reported Nara.

"So desu ka? Jā, I think I found it," said Gotou. "Shit, missile."

"Don't panic," said Nara. Gotou laughed bitterly. He thought Nara had a lot of nerve to say that, but Nara had avoided being shot down the entire Korean War.

"It's shoulder launched. The bastard's gone," said Takemoto.

"Forget him. Gotou, break now and drop chaffs," ordered Nara.

"Wilco, Captain," said Gotou breaking into a hard turn and dropping some canisters that exploded and created a cloud of aluminum. Nara wasn't sure how it quite worked, but scattered pieces of aluminum created a wall that confused radar-guided missiles. The missile broke off and arched downwards. It searched for a new target.

"Great," groaned Nara. "Looks like they found me again."

Nara stayed low. Radar missiles honed in on targets by sending out waves and reading the returns. If Nara was close to the ground the missile might lose him amongst the ground. Sure enough the missile mistaken a building for the F-15G.

Nara climbed and met up with Takemoto and Gotou. A steam of tracers rose from the streets. "Those AAAs are going to make our lives difficult."

"I see hostile arty," said Kugashi. A company of M-46 howitzers were setting up on a hill.

"I say we kill it," said Gotou.

"Remember your training. Set it up and release," said Nara.

"Roger… pickle," said Gotou. "Shit, something's wrong."

Gotou's bomb didn't release. He broke off the approach to clear the way for Takemoto. She released two cluster bombs which soared towards the 130 mm guns. The hilltop disappeared in a flume of smoke, dust, and fire.

"I can't see a damn thing," said Kugashi.

"Give it some time. Keep an eye out for anti-air though," said Nara.

"Roger."

"I have eyes on enemy helo," said Takemoto. "He's mine."

"Roger, clear hot," said Nara looking at the little attack helicopter, a Soko NH-42M Gama, a Yugoslavia variation of the French Gazelle.

"I got good tones on this one. Fox Two," announced Takemoto firing off a Sidewinder. Her missile's engine burst to life just as it was released from the aircraft and it roared at Yugoslav chopper.

"Splash one," Takemoto announced excitedly. It was her first aerial.

"How's that, Captain?" asked Takemoto.

"Mmm, maa maa da ne (not bad, I guess)," said Nara critically.

"Most pilots aren't impressed by downing a chopper," said Kugashi. "Planes get you the attention, but don't do anything stupid… speaking of planes, I have bandits on my scope."

Nara looked down on his radar's display and sure enough there was three fast moving dots approaching.

"Do we have an AWACS in operation?" asked Kugashi.

"Negative," said Nara. "The Amerikajin have one, but I don't speak English well enough. It looks like they're coming in low and hot. Probably fighter-bombers."

"I think I see them," said Gotou. "Sore (there), following those high-tension lines."

The aircraft were just small black dots in the distance. Each aircraft was then framed by a green square on his HUD showing that they were hostile, or unidentified, aircraft. It then ID'd the planes with designation: Flogger-H.

"MiG-23s," said Nara. "Okay, these are Soviet made fighter-bombers. They're a lot alike our F-2s. They're multirole fighters, but these guys are supposed to lean towards a fighter-bomber role. Don't be fooled by them, they can move pretty damn fast and engage you if you let them. Clear?"

"Clear," answered the other three.

"Okay. White Fox Leader, 2-1, we are requesting permission to engaging hostile fighter-bombers. How copy?"

"Solid copy, 2-1. You're cleared hot. Don't let them get near our allies," said Major Tsumoto.

"Roger," said Nara grinning. "Tally-ho."

They formed into a finger-four formation.

"Looks like they see us coming," said Kugashi when he saw some shift in the enemy formation. "Almost make you think they don't want us to shoot them down."

"Heh, so ne," agreed Nara with a chuckle. He was glad Kugashi had stayed in the Air Force. It was good to have a trusted wingman watching you back.

"Can I take a shot, Captain?" asked 1st Lt. Gotou. Gotou wasn't sure how he liked his flight lead. The man took good care of his pilots, but he had a tendency to lecture them endlessly on safety and staying alive. However, Gotou had been informed more than once that Nara had started off as a wingman and lost three of them before being promoted to first lieutenant.

"Do you have a clear shot?" asked Nara.

"Hai, Captain. You are clear of my line of fire," said Gotou.

"Then be my guest," said Nara. "Remember, normally me, the lead plane, fires first usually because I'm in front and normally have the clearest line of fire. Takemoto-san, Kugashi, you guys aren't supposed to or you might shoot down Gotou-kun and me."

"Roger," said Takemoto.

"Copy, sir," said Kugashi.

"I have a lock," said Gotou.

"You're clear to shoot," said Nara.

"Roger… Fox Two," reported Gotou. The missile flew off the hardpoint and zoomed towards the Floggers.

"They're dropping flairs. Missile shot trashed," said Nara. "Okay, Gotou-kun, Takemoto-san, take that one. Kugashi?"

"On you, Captain," said Kugashi.

"Ii (good). Hai, jā, itte kimasu (Yes, well, we're off)," said Nara. "And don't forget they have SAMs somewhere too."

"I have a lock," announced Takemoto. "Fox-"

"Takemoto! What are you doing?!" shouted Nara.

"Eh?" exclaimed 2nd Lt. Takemoto.

"Gotou-kun is right in front of you! The Sidewinder is a heat-seeker!" barked Nara. Supposedly missiles nowadays had a safety device to disengage friendly aircraft, but Nara had seen himself that they didn't always work. The AIM-9 Sidewinder would have probably flown straight into Gotou's Super Eagle's white hot tail-pipe destroying the plane and Takemoto, being so close, would have had her fighter cut to shreds by a wall of debris.

"Radar lock," reported Gotou. He did one brief check to make sure there was nothing that could conceivably get a lecture from the Captain. "Fox Two."

The Flogger pilot dropped more flares and jinked hard to the right.

"Don't dogfight with him," said Nara. "He can turn faster than you. He may not be right now, but a good pilot might be luring you into a trap."

"Roger," said Gotou. He recalled that the Flogger had adjustable wings. It could be brought into a swept position for maximum speed or bring them to the broad position for greater maneuverability for ground attacks. Gotou slowed down and tried to acquire the fighter again.

"Guns," said Gotou as he fired a burst. The F-15G (12), unlike the F-15J or the American F-15C, had a GAU-22 25 mm gatling gun. It was known amongst the Americans as the Equalizer. It had fewer rounds than the M61 Vulcan and a lower rate of fire, but the Equalizer had longer range and did a lot more damage. Gotou saw a stream of red tracers fly from the nose of his plane. He saw it seem to pass by the JRV Flogger, but a few pieces of metal popped off the MiG-23.

"Holy shit, I think you hit it," said Takemoto.

"Ee, so desu ne," agreed Gotou.

"I have a clear shot down," said Takemoto. She was still following Gotou, but now she was above him.

"Roger," agreed Nara. "Clear hot."

"Copy that. Fox Two," she said. The Sidewinder flew off the rack and chased after the Flogger. Unfortunately, signal flare launched from the ground drew it off course.

"Fuck!" cursed Takemoto.

"Bad luck," said Nara shaking his head. "Nothing you could have done about that."

"Fox Two," she said firing another missile. At the same time Gotou fired another Sidewinder. The Flogger pilot didn't seem to realize he had two missiles closing on him. His threat warning system could only detect radar emissions, lock ons, or a missile tracking him. It too old a system to tell the pilot how many.

"Splash one," said Kugashi as his Sidewinder destroyed one of the other Floggers.

"Good kill," said Nara. "You have the leader?"

"Not yet. I have eyes on him… damn it, he's going after 2-3 and 2-4," said Kugashi.

"Heads up! You have a hostile closing hot!" shouted Nara.

"Roger," said Gotou.

"Understood," said Takemoto. "Splash one!"

"Whose?" asked Gotou.

"Wakaranai (I don't know)," said Takemoto.

"We'll review it later! He's on you now!" shouted Nara.

"Radar spike!" said Takemoto. She wanted to stay calm, but this was the first time someone was actually trying to kill her.

"Jink right," Gotou. The two of them turned hard to the right and accelerated. They were faster than the MiG.

"I have him. Guns," said Nara. The Flogger seemed to wobble in the sky. The fin then started to come apart. The MiG-23's canopy flew off and the pilot was ejected safely from the aircraft as it spiraled out of control.

Two hours later they returned to Aviano. The mechanics were looking at Gotou's Eagle to figure out why one of his bombs didn't drop off. It was not unusual event that something would go wrong, but Nara had thought that everything had been in working order for their first sortie. He knew that was just how life was. Something unexpected would go wrong and they were just lucky it wasn't something that would get people killed.

"I know you're expecting a lecture," Nara said. "But not tonight. In the morning we'll go over your performance. For now, let's get something to eat. I'm starving."

He ruffled Gotou and Takemoto's hair and walked to the mess hall with Kugashi.

"Oi, you two coming?!" called Kugashi.

"Hai!" said Gotou and Takemoto together. They grinned. Their captain had been pleased enough by their overall performance to not lecture them… evening if it was only a temporary respite. And in the long run, it was for their benefit since they were learning from one of the best aces in the Federal Air Force.

* * *

**0700 Hours; December 17****th****, 1947; Heer Bunker #313-04, forest north of Munich; Bavarian State, Frontlines**

Pryce woke up. He could smell food being cooked.

"Chotto abunai desu ne (Isn't this a little dangerous)?" asked Sgt. Harima. "Oniku wa furui deshō (The meat is probably old)."

"Ie, daijobou da yo (No, it's fine, I assure you)," said Lt. Kurosaki. "Kabi ga aru nai (There is no mold). Iro ga ii (Color is okay)."

He couldn't understand anything since they spoke in Japanese.

"Breakfast?" he asked.

"Eh? Oh, you're awake, Lieutenant," said Harima. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Sergeant," said Pryce. He made to stand up, but something weighed him down. Mauhauser was sleeping against his shoulder.

"Huh? When did she?" he asked. He also noticed that she was clutching his arm this time.

"Don't disturb her, sir," said Harima. "We'll bring it to you."

"Thank you, Staff Sergeant," said Pryce. "By the way, where did you y'all fine that?"

"In a refrigerated room," said Kurosaki. "As someone who went to medical school I believe this is safe to eat."

"Let me see. I come from cattle country and I know meat," said Pryce. Kurosaki frowned a little. He felt like Pryce was questioning his medical degree. "A little dry, but it looks safe."

"Yes, sir," said Lt. Kurosaki.

"Where'd you go to school?" asked Pryce.

"Huh?"

"Where'd you go to college?" asked Pryce.

"Portland," said Kurosaki.

"Is it nice there?" asked Pryce. Kurosaki scrutinized 1st Lt. Pryce. He was used to white people questioning his education, but Pryce seemed to be genially curious.

"Very nice, sir. They didn't seem to mind too much I was Japanese," said Kurosaki.

"You think a woman would do good there?"

"I guess," said Kurosaki flipping over the meat on the skillet. "Why?"

"My sister is going to Portland. She wants to be a doctor too," said Pryce. "She's the first to go to college in my family."

"Congratulations," said Kurosaki with a smile.

"Thanks," said Pryce smiling weakly. "… I know it must have been hard for you."

"Being Japanese?"

"Yeah."

Kurosaki looked into the little stove. His eyes started to feel dried out from the fire, but he was too deep in thought to notice. "People have low expectations. They mock you and you have to do anything on your own because no one wants to help a Jap. Only the Colors (13) are worse off."

"I don't doubt that," said Pryce. "I just want to know… will she make it? I worry about her. I know what men are like."

"She will be better off than we were, sir," said Harima. "She must be strong to get her degree or else."

Pryce nodded. "Thank you, both of you."

"Of course, Lieutenant," said Harima who was in the process of lighting up a pipe.

Pryce looked around for Hull. Hull was sleeping on a thin mat someone found. Kiesinger was peeling potatoes with the Catholic pastor and a Rabbi. Pryce couldn't help but think there was a joke somewhere in this. Captain Shinhachi seated next to Pryce reading.

"What's that?" asked Pryce.

"History of European Political Thought," said Shinhachi. Pryce saw that the Captain had written notes in the margins with a pencil. He looked at the top of the page and saw the title.

"Karl Marx?"

"Yes, the Communist Manifesto is in here. So is Das Kapital," said Shinhachi. "There are also exerts from other Ludwig von Feuerbach, Georg Hegel, Friedrich Schiller, Friedrich Schelling, Johann Fichte, Friedrich Nietzsche, John Stuart Mill, Friedrich Engel, Auguste Comte, Henry Thoreau, Thomas Henry Huxley, and Charles Darwin."

Pryce had never heard of those men. He'd only heard of Marx and Darwin. Feuerbach sounded a little familiar.

"Friedrich seemed like a popular name. Who are they?" asked Pryce.

"Most of them are Germans. Hegel, Schelling, Schiller, Fichte, and Feuerbach are German Idealists. They all talked about how humans have alienated themselves."

"Huh?"

"The German Idealists are born from British Romanticism and influenced by French Socialism. These guys asked a lot of really complex and abstract questions. They could actually spend hours arguing whether that table over there really exists or not."

"But it's right there. Of course it exists," reasoned Pryce.

"Not according to them."

"That's crazy. Who the hell thinks that way?"

"That's what Marx said," said Shinhachi wryly.

"The Russian Communist that started the Russian Revolution?" asked Pryce.

Shinhachi put down his book and looked at Pryce. "You don't know your history too well, do you?"

Pryce shrugged.

"Vladimir Lenin is who you're thinking of. Karl Marx died before the turn of the century. And he was German."

"He was?" asked Pryce.

"Yes he was," said Shinhachi turning to look at Pryce. "Marx was a German Jew. He coveted to Lutheranism though. He mostly lived in England. He was heavily influenced by the Idealists, mostly Feuerbach and Hegel, and by French Socialists."

Shinhachi took a deep breath and stretched. "He was Communist, but he was still a German."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Pryce a little defensively. Pryce may have fought a war against Germany, but he was very fond of the Germans.

"He had conceptions and prejudges of his culture. Just like Americans have conceptions about Indians, Blacks, and Orientals."

"Right," agreed Pryce. "Like what?"

"Hmmm, he hated Poles," said Shinhachi checking his pocket watch. "And Russians. Strangely, he was born a Jew and yet he hated them. He actually hated all religion, but he didn't write a book called the Catholic Question or Protestant Question. The Nazis got the term Jewish Question from him. He calls his own people selfish and money worshipping."

He chuckled a little. "You know the irony? He would have been horrified to see Russia leading the Communist Revolution."

"Really?" laughed Pryce.

"Yeah. Marx didn't care about the underdeveloped East. He was talking about overthrowing the Capitalists, but Russia didn't have Capitalists or a middle class."

"So what does that mean?" asked Pryce.

"They aren't real Marxists. But most Russians are too uneducated to know this. They only know what the party tells them and how could they know the difference. The State controls what they see, hear, and read. Even if they found the real Manifesto most of them wouldn't be able to understand it or the State would tell them how to interpret it."

"The perfect place for a dictatorship," said Pryce. He looked pale.

"It is. You know, if the Soviet Union ever fells and we replace it if democracy it would still be the same damn place it has been since the Czars. Government and ideals don't change a damn thing if the people can't think for themselves and corrupt leaders do it for them," said Shinhachi (14). "Our country works because our Founding Fathers built a government that didn't trust people with power. That's why it's spread out so much. Communism centralizes power too much. Lenin probably meant well, but it left Stalin with enough power that he's basically a Slavic version of Hitler with a bigger mustache, but the Russians are convinced they are better off. Maybe they are, but I hardly believe it."

Captain Shinhachi was silent for a while. He watched as Harima and Kurosaki started to pass out food. Pryce was admiring the Asian man. He wondered what the Captain had done before the war.

"Marx was a genius in his own right. He had a pretty good understanding of history and human relations. Sociology, ever heard of it? No? Well, it's the study of society. Basically how we interact and relate. Marx's studies really helped sociologists. A lot of how we understand social, historical, economic, and idealistic philosophy has been shaped by him. There was a lot wrong with how the working class was treated and he wanted to help. He was also frustrated with the inaction of the idealists… actually Marx would really hate the Communists and Socialists in the US since they're all talk and no action… I lost you didn't I?"

"A little. I understood that last part, but I don't really know what Sociology is. But why do all this. I understand he was trying to change the world and help, but why? Look what happened to his ideas and preaching's. What the fuck was he thinking? … sir."

"He thought he knew what was best for us," said Shinhachi.

Pryce shook his head and said, "God save us from those who know what's best for us."

"That is who you are fighting, Lieutenant. It's no different than 300 years ago when the people in this country were fighting over Catholicism and Protestantism. It's just now the world has become more secular so we fight over political doctrine instead."

"So why fight? How do we know we are right?" asked Pryce.

"Because I'm your superior officer and say so. If you ask that again someone might shoot you for being a subversive," said Captain Shinhachi. "But it is a good question. The Soviets do not have the moral high-ground. They claim to be a worker's paradise, but you've seen the people from the camps that were from the USSR. Communism is great in theory, but in practice it doesn't really work. You want to be there when it collapses? I don't. Our system isn't perfect, but it works. I may have been locked up for being a Jap, but I will have my rights back and I have the tools to do it. The Soviet Union doesn't work that way. I know what it is like to not be treated like a person. If the Soviets want to take that from me then they better break to die trying. It also takes away any rights we have like property which gives the individual power in the state and a stake in its survival. I'll explain more about it sometime and this man name Ortega. Spaniard who wrote this book about 15 years ago."

"… You were a teacher weren't you?" asked Pryce.

Shinhachi smiled. "I was a professor of history, political thought, and sociology at the University of Washington. Mostly, I taught courses on Europe, but they always insisted I'd teach on Asia. The problem was when I did they didn't like what I taught. They have this idea of the Orient and they hate it when someone challenges it. When the FBI in '41 came for me half the staff accused me of subverting the West's superiority over the Orient."

Pryce nodded. He also noticed that Mauhauser was showing signs of waking up. "Well, sir, I think you'll show them."

"Maybe," said Shinhachi. "Ah, breakfast. Eat up. I don't plan on staying here. I have a company waiting for me in Munich."

"Sir," said Pryce.

An hour later SSG Harima was on point as he exited the bunker. He was followed by PFC Eric Sumi with a BAR and Cpl. Bob Minamoto with his M1A1 Thomason.

"No, sign of Russkies," said Minamoto.

"Let's go," said Harima waving them forward.

"Spread out," ordered Shinhachi. "Keep the civilians in the center."

"Yes, sir," answered Harima, Kurosaki, and Tsukamoto. Pryce passed on the message to Kiesinger.

They walked until they reached a road. Harima held up a fist level his head to indicate they should halt. The Americans and Englishman crouched down. The Germans imitated their English-speaking counterparts. They saw a string of people walking down the road.

"Germans," said Shinhachi. "Come on."

The last of the stragglers retreating from the Soviets were heading towards Munich. There were also some British and Americans retreating with them. Shinhachi walked onto the road ignoring the startled reactions from the people on the road. Eventually they reached a junction where several US Army trucks and half-tracks were loading up the stragglers to drive back to Munich.

"Good morning, Captain," said an MP snapping to attention.

"Morning, Sergeant. You have room for us?" asked Shinhachi.

"We're almost full, sir," said the Sergeant apologetically.

"Can you take our wounded and the civilians?"

"I'll make room for them," said the Sergeant. "They're should be another Deuce-and-a-Half here any second."

"Great."

Mauhauser watched as some American shoulders loaded up her countrymen into the back of the standard American GMC truck. Two more trucks rolled into the junction.

"Those are for us," said Pryce. "Let's go."

The truck rolled along back south to Munich. Pryce started to feel relieved as he saw NATO soldiers digging in around the outskirts of the city.

"Looks like the 4th Infantry are getting ready," said Lt. Kurosaki.

"Captain, you have any idea where I can find the 3rd Armored?" asked Pryce. "I'm basically the company CO."

"No idea right now, but that shouldn't be hard to figure out," said Shinhachi. They came to a halt in front of one of the 4th Infantry's regimental HQs.

"Come on. They're in command of this part of the line," said Shinhachi to Pryce indicating the regimental HQ. "Kurosaki, fine the company and make sure they haven't kill themselves."

"Right," said Kurosaki.

They approached was a hotel. A guard saluted the two officers as they walked up the front stair. SFC Tsukamoto naturally followed his CO, he was company sergeant after all. Mauhauser had no idea where her unit was and followed Pryce out of habit.

The other guards seemed to be watching the skies.

"I'm Captain Shinhachi," he said to a Sergeant. "I'm looking for the regimental commander. Is Colonel Leigh in?"

"Yes, sir," said the Sergeant. "He's available right now if you want to speak to him."

"Thank you, Sergeant. I'll find my own way in. Lieutenant, you coming too?" asked Shinhachi.

"Yes, sir."

They walked up the main staircase. It wasn't hard to find the commanding officer's office. It would usually be a study of some kind. Sure enough they found a couple of guards standing outside a room with a sign that read '12th Infantry Regiment CO'.

Shinhachi knocked on the door and entered. He snapped to attention and said, "Good morning, Colonel. Captain Shinhachi, 5th Battalion 442nd Infantry reporting, sir."

"Ah, yes. Good morning to you, Captain," said the old Colonel. "Please, hang up your coats and helmets on the wall over there and feel free to lean your guns against that bookshelf."

"Thank you, Colonel," said Shinhachi. Pryce nodded and uttered a 'sir'.

"So, you took platoon into Soviet lines to recover dead and wounded, correct? Did your mission accomplish anything else?"

"A little, sir," said Shinhachi. "I managed to bring back a surviving officer from the 3rd Armored and some German soldiers and civilians. We did some scouting out of Soviet activity north of us, sir. It doesn't look good."

"Oh dear," said the Colonel mildly.

"Lots of tanks, Colonel," said Lt. Pryce. "Mostly T-34s, but they do have some KV-1s and JS-3s."

"You saw them yourself, I take it," said the Colonel. It was not a question. "Mmm, with all that armor I wonder why they haven't attacked yet. We're at our most vulnerable and they have the momentum. The Stalin tank is heavier than anything we have. Closest we come is the M26 (15). We don't even have any of them in Munich."

The Colonel seemed to be rambling to himself.

"Maybe they overextended themselves and are having supply problems… it could be political problems or for some reason they think we are a stronger force and they are digging in for a counterattack."

"Or, sir, they aren't as strong as we think and are waiting for reinforcements," said Shinhachi. "Probably not. Supply problems are most likely or they're planning something."

Colonel Leigh leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers together in thought. A mild frown came across his face and he said, "That's an unpleasant thought. Well, we should be ready for them. Division is asking for more tanks, artillery, and anything we can get."

"Is the rest of the 442 coming?" asked Shinhachi.

"Not as far as I know so you're battalion will remain under my command. Washington says they may be redeploying the entire 2nd Armored Division. They'll also be sending replacements for the 3rd. The 101st Airborne is also being reactivated and we are expecting a regiment from the 29th Infantry this month."

"How are things up north?"

"About the same. The 1st and 2nd Infantry and 1st Armored are fighting tooth and nail to hold Hamburg. It's something fierce up there. The French are pulling troops out though."

"Why?" asked Pryce. Shinhachi and Leigh both looked at him. "Sorry, sirs."

"Nah, it's a fair question," said Leigh. "Some place called French Indochina. There is these guys, I forget their name… Vet Mini? … anyways, they're pulling out 'cause those Commies are starting an uprising."

"Any they aren't concern about the Reds that are threatening their homeland? Indochina is pretty far away from Paris and the Soviets are so much closer in case they forgot how to measure distance," asked Shinhachi.

"No one has accused the French of being smart," said Leigh.

"With all due respect sirs, they're probably less willing to die for Germans than a French colony," said Pryce. "… Indochina is a colony, right?"

"Yes it is, Lieutenant," said Shinhachi walking to a large map on the wall. "Let's see. They're right here by British Burma (16), but they're right here."

"What about the British?" asked Pryce.

"They have their own problems with their own colonial empire," said Colonel Leigh shaking his head. The late-40s was a real mess for British and French Empires. In fact this decade would be the end of both empires. France would lose Indochina to the Viet Minh by 1954. The United Kingdom would grant independence in the next few years to most of its colonies including: India, East Pakistan, West Pakistan, Palestine, Burma, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Iraq, Jordan, Egypt, Sudan, and several more colonies. Mostly this was due to treaties and that World War II had exhausted too much of the British Army to maintain the Empire. Still the British Empire, unlike the French, evolved and survived into the 21st Century as the Commonwealth of Nations.

"Are they sending anyone?"

"Maybe. They say something about the Scots Dragoons… whatever that is," said Leigh as he lit is pipe. "In the mean time we are supposed to get more infantry. I asked for tanks. So did Division. So did Southern HQ. So did Brad and Monty (17). Our dear friend Von Rundstedt asked for gas."

"It seems to me that the Germans are the only people who have multiple armored divisions ready to mobilize," said Shinhachi.

"Indeed," agreed the Colonel. "The German commander here did promise that defense of Munich has taken top priority and they will be moving an entire infantry division that has just completed training in the Ruhr Valley (18). They'll be bringing in a lot of artillery."

"That'll be nice. What should I tell my battalion commander?" asked Shinhachi.

"Hold that line here. We have the remains of a British company reinforcing you too. Actually, Lieutenant, you're with the 3rd Armored, correct?"

"Yes, sir," nodded Pryce.

"We have two British tanks without a unit," said Colonel Leigh digging through the piles of papers on his desk while he spoke. He pulled out a small note paper and gave it a light shake to remove the dust. "Yes, two Sherman Fireflies. One from the 89th Irish Fusiliers and one from the 1st Armored Division. I asked for them since it doesn't look like we are getting new tanks from the States. We're short of crew on the tanks already under your command. You can grab men being discharged from the aid station or just use the Germans."

"I understand, sir. Just grab equipment and manpower wherever I can," said Pryce.

"Exactly, son," said Leigh patting Pryce on the head before walking to the door, pipe in mouth. "Lieutenant, I'll have someone drive you to your unit. Captain, I believe your battalion CO is down with my S4. That's just at the end of your hallway."

Pryce exited the building. In the square in front of the HQ there were some GIs manning an M51 quad-barrel .50 cal AA gun. There were some Germans setting up a Flak 43, a quad-barrel 37 mm AA gun. Pryce also saw a line of young Bavarians lining up at a recruiting station for the Bundeswehr. In fact Pryce noticed there were a lot of new posters up around Munich. One was a German version of the American recruitment poster, but instead of Uncle Sam pointing at viewer it showed mustached-man in an old Prussian uniform and the words: Die Bundesrepublik Ruft Ihr (The Federal Republic Calls You). Another showed Soviet T-34s and infantry burning and slashing German homes and farms captioned: Die Vatarland ist unter Angriff (The Father is Under Attack). Another showed a uniformed German soldier clutching a Kar 98K in between a British soldier with a Lee-Enfield and an American with an M1 Garand. Behind each soldier was the flag of their respective country and at the top was a towering blue flag with a compass rose on it. The caption read: Liieren en Abwehr der Frei Westeuropa (Join in the Defense of Free West Europe). There was also an assortment of wanted posters for Communist sympathizers and suspected members of the Nazi Party.

A jeep approached Pryce and stopped in front of him. Lt. Pryce didn't even ask if he was his ride. He just got in and the man drove. Pryce wondered where Mauhauser had gone. She was probably back with her unit. She was a soldier and was probably scrambling with the rest of the Bundeswehr to defend Munich. There was panic in the air amongst the American and British soldiers. Their counter-attack had exhausted too many of their resources. Pryce thought it was amazing the Germans were so calm. They were tense, but they seemed to have resigned themselves. They would have to take the full blunt of the attack themselves since now 60-percent of the troops in Munich were Germans. 74-percent of NATO troops in Bavaria were Germans.

"Here you are, sir," said the driver.

"Thank you, Corporal," thanked Pryce.

Pryce saw two Sherman Fireflies. The Firefly looked much like the standard American Sherman tank with only a few minor differences that really didn't matter too much to him. The main thing about the Firefly was it was originally designed to pack the 17-pounder, the British 3-inch (76.2 mm) gun, which was far deadly than the previous American 75 mm gun. So the Firefly had a few internal differences to accommodate the 3-inch gun. They weren't too different from the M4A3.

"Afternun'," called out one man.

"Afternoon," said Pryce as he approached the tankers.

"Yur' lookin' for some'it?" asked a man.

"No, you guys are being reassigned to my command," said Pryce. "Lt. Elijah Pryce, 3rd Armored."

"What's that mate?" asked an Englishman.

"He says he's o'r command'r," said an Irishman.

"He's an officer?" asked another Englishman.

"I think so," said the Irishman.

"He's a bloomin' Leftenant. 'Bout time we got one. But a Yank?"

"Who do we have?"

"Me name's Sergeant Patrick O'Keith. That's me tank, 'ver der, s'r," said the Irishman. "Dat's Pvt. Kelly, our gunn'r. Dat sham (boy) o'er der' is Shay. Me driver. Me crew is short two lads."

"I'm Lance Corporal Allen Cleasby, Leftenant. That's Goldberg."

"Where's the rest of your crew?" asked Pryce looking around.

"Dead, Leftenant," said Cleasby. "My boys were killed in our tank. This one was being repaired in Munich. We're all that's left."

"What's the sca, s'r?" asked O'Keith.

"…"

"What's the word, sir?" asked Cleasby.

"Oh. I'm taking command. You'll be backing what's left of my unit. We'll have about six tanks total."

"What about bloody replacements?" asked Private John Shelach Goldberg.

"Regiment gave me two options. One: we pick up people from the aid stations. Two: we grab any able-bodied Germans we find."

"We don't speak German," said O'Keith.

"I do," said Pryce. He surveyed the Firefly. "O'Keith, Cleasby, y'all are comin' with me. We're gonna' look for some replacements."

"Right'o, s'r," said O'Keith.

"We're all the tanks in Munich? We're bloody well fucked," said Cleasby.

* * *

Another end to a chapter. The next one will take time because I have finals coming up. Please review and let me know what y'all think.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. The US Army Cavalry call their battalions squadrons. Why you may ask? I don't really know, but it's mostly tradition because historically that was what they were called in the British Army and the United States Army and Navy draw a lot of traditions from their British counterparts.

2. Bimp is a nickname for the BMP, the primary tracked infantry fighting vehicle of the Red Army and their successors like the Russian Army. The BMP is also the first tracked IFV to completely protect their passengers in an enclosed armored compartment. Previous APCs like the half-tracks from World War II while were good in their concept left the soldiers exposed. The BMP was the first of its kind and would inspire the US to build an IFV/ACP of the same concept, which became the M113 Garvin.

3. Fagot is a word that has changed a lot in history (South Park fans will know this from that episode they did on the word and the scene when they read the numerous definitions that have been used without the centuries). In this case, fagot is not an English word, but spelt Фагот which is Russian Cyrillic spelling for fagot, the Russian word for bassoon, a woodwind instrument which was introduced in the early 18th Century and is standard in most orchestras. Fagot is the name for the 9K111 Fagot, a Soviet wire-guided anti-tank missile system, more commonly known by the NATO reporting name AT-4 Spigot. It fires a 120 mm rocket at a speed of 290 km/h (180 mph) with a range of 2,500 m (8,200 ft). It is similar in usage, performance, and rough appearance to the American RGM-71 TOW.

4. A MQ-9 Reaper, which is based off the original MQ-1 Predator, costs roughly $10.5 million per aircraft. Fortunately our military has only paid for less than 28 of them. The old RQ-1 Predator costs roughly $4.5 million per aircraft, which is rather cheap. We have a just fewer than 200 of them. The Reaper however is an MQ which apparently designated it as multi-role UAV, the Predators are most RQ, recon UAV, but there are MQ-1s. The Reaper is more advance and can carry a lot more weapons.

5. MANPADS is just another military acronym for a shoulder-launch surface-to-air missile. Examples would be the US FIM-92 Stinger or the Russian 9K32M Strela-2 (SA-7 Grail).

6. Komatsu's Light Armored Vehicle is the primary light vehicle of the Japanese Self-Defense Forces introduced in 2002 along with the Mitsubishi Type 73 Light Truck. The LAV is a combat vehicle similar in its role to the US HMMWV, but most closely resembles a French vehicle the VBL made by Panhard. It can carry one driver, three passengers, and one gunner. The gunner is given a Sumitomo built machine gun (Sumitomo Heavy Industries has licensing from Browning to built the M2 .50 caliber heavy machine gun and licensing from FN Herstal to build the FN Minimi) or the Type 87 laser-guided anti tank missile system. It's a 4x4 vehicle with a speed of 100 km/h (70 mph) and has a weight 4,500 kg. No specification on its range or armor.

7. If it interests you, this is a good example of speech. Note that earlier Ikuro said 'kowaii' which is the Japanese word for scary. It sounds a lot like 'kawaii' which is cute. This is a mistake I've made in class before because they sound a lot alike. Another thing is that She just said 'kowaii' when she was talking to herself, but when Ikuro, an enlisted soldier, spoke to Matsumoto, an officer, had to add 'de irasshaimasu'. 'Desu' means 'to be', but it is a neutral word. If the object is someone who is superior to you (teacher, doctor) you use 'de irasshaimasu' which is 'to be' but in an honorific form. If you are talking about yourself to a superior or stranger (or you're employed and working with Japanese customers) you use 'de gozaimasu' which is 'to be' but in humble-polite form. Then there is 'imasu' which is 'to be' for animate/living things only and is neutral word. Finally is 'arimasu' which is 'to be' for inanimate objects only. Sakashita spoke to Hayasuka, who was a subordinate. She doesn't have to use 'desu' or the other forms above. She can use informal speech with subordinates and friends: da (desu), iru (imasu), aru (arimasu), and irasshairu (irasshaimasu). Sakashita also can, as she did, just not use them. It would actually be more common to say 'Daijobou yo' instead of 'Daijobou da yo'. Be warned, 'Daijobou wa yo' is a feminine form. Men would not add 'wa' there. Finally, do not take my translations literally. That's how I translated them for them to make sense in English and some of them have the same meaning, but have different levels of formality.

8. I don't know if there is a Seattle office. This is purely fiction, but there are offices for NCIS in Everett, Bremerton, and Whidbey Island.

9. An autoinjector is a type of syringe used to inject a single dose of medication. This used by people who need an emergency injection like someone who has violent food allergies. The military also uses them to deliver doses against nerve agents or pain killers. They also can be used to deliver poisons or incapacitation agent.

10. The Soviet Union had two separate air corps. There was the Voenno-Vozdushney Sily (VVS), which in Russian Cyrillic is abbreviated BBC, is the Soviet Air Force. It translates as Military Air Forces. They are frontline operations and combat operations support. Voyska Protivo Vozdushnaya Oborona (Voyska PVO) is the homeland defense air corps. They are not part of the Soviet Air Force, but a branch of their own that is independent. They command air defense of the USSR and their inventory includes almost entirely fighter planes (mostly air-supremacy/interceptor models) and surface-to-air missile systems. They also command some AWACSs too. Voyska PVO is most famous for the incident in which one of their Su-15s shot down Korean Airlines Flight 007 in 1983. Voyska PVO continued to exist after the fall of the Soviet Union as a branch in the Russian Federation Armed Forces, but was disbanded in 1998. Its duties are now entirely handled by the Russian Air Force to this day.

11. Fūjin, also known as Kami-no-Kaze, is the Shinto god of wind. He is one of the elder Shinto gods and he was originally a demon, but was defeated and has served the gods since. He is originally found in Buddhism under the same name in China.

12. There is no F-15G Super Eagle. It is a fictional variation of the F-15C.

13. It was considered socially acceptable at the time to call African-Americans, Colors. I would **NOT** recommend using this term today.

14. This is the problem of the Russian Federation today. The government changed, but not the people.

15. The M26 Pershing, named after General John Joseph Pershing, was the only heavy tank the US fielded during World War II. They arrived in 1945, too late to make much of a difference since the Germans didn't have fuel to deploy their Tigers. They mostly saw service in the Korean War. The M26's legacy is that its basic design was used in the M46 Patton and the numerous successor versions of the Patton. The M26 had 25-110 mm of armor making it the most heavily armored tank the US had in World War II. It also had a 90 mm gun, the largest gun the US Army anti-tank gun. It had a top speed of 25 mph making it faster than its Soviet counterpart the IS-3, but the IS-3 with its 122 mm gun and 30-160 mm of armor was a deadlier tank.

16. In 1947 Burma was almost an independent nation. They were still in the process, but were in a transitional state from British colony to the Union of Burma which was formed on January 4th, 1948. Today Burma is officially called the Union of Myanmar, after several coups and government changes. On most maps you'll find it still called Burma since most people don't know what hell Myanmar is.

17. Brad is the nickname for United States Army General Omar Bradley. Monty is the nickname for British Army General Sir Bernard Montgomery. Both nicknames are pretty commonly used in both the US and British Armies.

18. The Ruhr River is a river in northwestern Germany near Belgium and the Netherlands. It is mostly within a valley and has been one of Germany's most vital industrial areas.


	16. Chapter 16: Welcome to the Balkans

So now I'm over 200,000 words and I'm only at 15 chapters. Is this too long? Maybe not since I'm posting only every couple months… sorry about that y'all.

I bought a copy of Uncharted 2: Among Thieves. I haven't played the first one, but this is on awesome game. If you love Assassin's Creed or are a fan of the Indiana Jones movies you'll love this game. This is also probably one of the highest rated games on the PS3 platform… all you Xbox gamers are screwed. Like Assassin's Creed you get to climb around a lot, but you're not accorded the same level of freedom to wander around, there is a set plot. It's basically like you're playing in a movie (you may remember Sony's commercials for this game) and it's done wonderfully.

My friends have been telling me to start watching the BBC sci-fi/drama that originally aired on November 23, 1968 – December 6, 1989. Then a film was aired on May 12, 1996. The TV series after its 16 year hiatus was restarted on March 26, 2005 and new episodes are still being produced. This makes Doctor Who according to the Guinness Book of World Records is the longest running sci-fi TV series with over 760 episodes as of May 2010 and it is still one of the BBC's most popular programs. Basically the show is about a man known only by the alias 'The Doctor'. The Doctor is a Time Lord, an extraterrestrial time-travelling man from a planet called Gallifrey. The Doctor is the last of his race as most of his people were lost in the Great Time War against the Delaks. The rest are sealed away somewhere in time and space. The Doctor travels with time with various companions. If the doctor suffers a mortal illness or dies a mortal death he is regenerated in a new form. This is how they explain a different actor playing the doctor since obvious the First Doctor, played by William Hartnell, would be too old to play the doctor today… in fact he died in 1975. Currently they are up to the Eleventh Doctor played by Matt Smith replacing David Tennant, who most Americans would know as Barty Crouch Jr. in _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_. David Tennant is currently the favorite incarnation of the Doctor for manic and eccentric character he played on camera. For more info check out the Wikipedia article and this show is definitely worth watching.

I don't own any copywritten or trademarked item. Please leave a review.

* * *

**Chapter 16: Welcome to the Balkans**

"Man ist was man isst."

(Man is what man eats)

Ludwig Andreas von Feuerbach

19th Century German philosopher, anthropologist, German Idealist

**1100 Hours; April 14****th****, 2012; JFNS Hanabira, Golfo de Panama; South Entrance of the Panama Canal, Panamanian Waters**

Kenji roved the deck carrying a baton. Enlisted soldiers weren't supposed to carry guns on a ship and the Navy was not particularly friendly about this policy. They didn't want Army soldiers armed. The Marines were supposed to handle armed guard duty. Kenji knew his purposed on deck was pointless. It was just to keep him busy as SSG Asou said.

He heard the props of a plane. The Americans were flying out of bases in Panama. Although the Panamanians now controlled the bases the US was the only real users. The US Navy had an air base they used to launch their Orions for ASW (anti-submarine warfare) operations. The USAF also had bases since Panama lacked an air force to protect the canal or their own homeland. The USMC and Army also had a couple installations. The US didn't entirely trust Panama after the events that lead to the US invasion of Panama in December 1989.

Kenji watched the Orion seem to lazily circle the Japanese 2nd Fleet. USS Taylor sailed by the Hanabira. There was also a Cyclone Class patrol boat operating amongst the Japanese. The Taylor, a Perry Class frigate, was checking for any submarines. The PT boat was checking off all the Japanese ships.

The wind was strong near the coast and Kenji enjoyed it in the baking Central American sun. He looked up and saw a SH-60J Sea Hawk returning to their ship. The Federal navy was flying mail off ships to a USAF base in Panama. The skies were crowed with helicopters, but the waters were too crowded to use ships to ferry the mail to shore. He hoped that Yakumo would get the mail soon.

The sun and wind was a very nice combination. Kenji felt himself drifting off…

* * *

**0740 Hours; October 29****th****, 2009; Yagami High School, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

Harima Kenji was approaching his high school for the preparations for the culture festival. Kenji had pretty spent the night there working for the festival. He had gone to get breakfast and was now returning to finish some things.

Once again Class C-3 could not agree on what theme this year, but instead of a battle royal they agreed on a combining everything… that and the school threatened to expel them if they did such a thing again.

'Too bad,' Kenji thought. 'I'd have liked to kick Four-Eye's ass again.'

Kenji didn't know he'd been doing a far deadly game in a few months in Korea. Kenji entered the classroom. No one was there. He'd been working alone all night with only four hours of sleep. He never felt so unappreciated. He checked the stage. It looked safe and secure. All the wiring was done. The plan was to have Ichijou, Fuyuki, Yūki, and Sagano's band play. Then there would be a play. This would be while customers would enjoy food being served to them. Kenji had pretty much built the stage single-handedly. He'd hoped that Tenma had been impressed by this.

He sat down and opened a newspaper he bought… well found. He skimmed through the wanted ads for a part-time job. He needed to eat and he could barely afford breakfast today. He checked the sports pages. He didn't really particularly care about football or baseball, but it was something to kill time. The economic pages made his head hurt. To his surprise he saw his mother's picture in the paper. He tried to figure out what it said. He knew the bank had been started by his great-great grandfather in the Meiji Period. The Harima clan was a small clan of low ranking samurai. They had done moderately well during the Ashigaka (or Muromachi) Period as warriors serving Hojo Clan when the region had been called the Sagami Province. They had joined the Tokugawa Clan's army the second it invaded out of the Musashi Province. Sagami was now part of the Kanagawa Prefecture. Musahi later became the Tokyo Prefecture. In the peace following the Battle of Sekigahara, the Edo Period, there was no work for the small Harima Clan.

They weren't allowed to leave the ranks of the samurai, the Bakufu wouldn't allow it. The strict society allowed little growth for the clan and they struggled to maintain some money from the local farmers, but pride and discipline wouldn't allow them to overtax the people. Then the Meiji Restoration started and the Harimas joined the Imperialists. After the fighting they stated a bank a small backwater town called Yagami. Kenji's great-great-grandfather had funded a couple of clans that started some businesses that lead to Yagami growth into a city.

Kenji's mother was in Seattle, Washington, United States. The rest was just gibberish. He flipped the pages to the front section. Some guy named Aokami was named Prime Minister from the Komeitō (New Komeito Party), Japan's third largest party. Japan's largest parties were the Minshutō (Democratic Party), the liberal and left wing party, and Jiyū-Minshutō (Liberal Democratic Party), a largely non-unified party, but learned more right than the Minshutō.

There was an article about the US final withdrawal from Iraq with comments that the war in Afghanistan was pretty much at an end. Kenji was just starting an article about rising tensions in Korea and an increase in incursions by North Koreans across the DMZ when someone entered the classroom.

It was Sawachika Eri, his half-Japanese classmate.

"Ohayo, Hige," she said.

"Ohayo, Ojō," he shot back.

He flipped back through the paper. He tried to make sense of some nuclear arms treaty between the United States and the Soviet Union. Harima didn't really understand much about nuclear weapons beyond what he'd seen in the movies or in manga. He knew enough to be scared like any man, woman, or child. He didn't understand much about Americans or Soviets. He just knew that America was Japan's friend and primary protector from China, North Korea, and Russia. He also knew that the Soviets were not Japan's friend.

"DMZ?" read Kenji aloud. "What the fuck is that?"

"Honestly, Hige. Are you that stupid?" ask Eri. "It's the border between the two Koreas."

"Did I ask you?" barked Kenji.

"Baka, it's because you're so hopeless!"

"I think I'll see to the Tea Club room," said Takano Akira in a tone that did not conceal her boredom.

"Anō, Harima-kun?" interrupted Suō Mikoto, who had just arrived.

"Hai?" said Kenji looking a confused at the interruption.

"Yakumo-chan gave me this. She just said it was very important, do not look inside, and that she was sorry she couldn't deliver it to you personally," said Mikoto.

"Oh, arigato," said Kenji taking a thick brown envelope.

"What's this?" asked Eri. "Perverted pictures of your precious Yakumo-chan?"

Kenji was very grateful that Haruki did not hear that. "Ie, and it's none of your business."

"She helping you cheat so you can graduate?" asked Eri with a sneer. She wished she could be nicer, but when it came to Yakumo's relationship with Kenji it always brought out the worse in her.

"Go to hell, Ojō. Don't you have better things to do with your time? What are you jealous or something?" asked Kenji.

Eri seemed to have lost it at that point. Next thing Kenji knew he was running for his life. He eventually lost her and he sought shelter in the old school building. He wondered if Akira would hide him.

"Harima!"

'Now what?' wondered Kenji. 'What the fuck did I do to deserve this shit?'

"You bastard Harima! I'll get you for taking advantage of Yakumo-chan!"

Kenji had no idea what was going on. He did not make the connection that someone had probably told Haruki about what Eri had been yelling, but he wasn't one to back down from a fight. "I don't know what you want four-eyes, but bring it on!"

In a way it was fun fighting Haruki. He was one of Kenji's true equals in a fight. They shared some common interests and even found themselves on the same side of fights at times. Dimly, he wondered if things had been a little different could they be friends. He recalled their confrontation with Harry Mackenzie and the other jackasses in Class 3-D. They ended up fighting each other, but eventually united forces… only to get their asses kicked and saved by the ever dangerous Akira.

An hour later and they were exhausted.

"We must be out of shape," remarked Haruki.

"Ee, we used to be able to do this for 6 hours," said Kenji. Both students were slumped on the floor and leaning against a wall. Between them were cups of tea that Akira had kindly left them. She seemed to take pity on them since they looked so pathetic, or maybe she was in a good mood. She mentioned something about Nara waiting to continue their conversation in the club room. Kenji couldn't remember who Nara was.

"I haven't been training enough. You know college exams," said Haruki.

"Wakatta (I know). I've got to get a job."

"You not going to college?"

"It's not for me. I've been working for publishing company part-time. I'll be there full time soon," said Kenji.

"Why do we fight like this?"

"I don't even remember why we started fighting in the first place."

"Me either," said Haruki thoughtfully. "Something about… sports?"

"Nah, I don't really watch sports."

"Me either… hmmm, maybe it was something about food."

"Hmm, sounds about right," agreed Kenji. "You think this tea is safe?"

"I wouldn't if I were you," said Haruki eyeing it cautiously.

"So ne."

Kenji took a sip. Nothing happened. Haruki took his and took a sip. They sat there an hour staring watching the yellow and orange leaves fall quietly sipping their tea for the next hour without a word. It was peaceful. It was nice. Kenji wondered if things had been a little different… okay, maybe very different, then maybe they would have been friends. Kenji wondered if they were in a life threatening situation then Haruki would have his back and they could be comrades.

Kenji had imagined being in a fight against some roving gang of bikers, yakuza, or just Class 3-D. He never imagined being drafted and sent to war with Haruki or being his best man let alone best friends.

"Mate ne (later)," said Haruki getting up. He exchanged a look of mutual respect for the other. It was weird relationship, but at the end of the day they did regard the other as a worthy rival.

"Jā, mate."

* * *

**0700 Hours; Apr****il 1****5****th****, 2012; JFNS Hanabira, Pacific Entrance; Panama Canal, Republic of Panama**

It seemed so long ago now, but it was hardly three years since then. Kenji was on the deck of the troop transport. So were many of the Japanese soldiers. They wanted to see the massive Bridge of the Americas, only one of two bridges that span the canal and connect North and South America. It was part of the Pan-American Highway which officially stretches from the US-Mexican border near San Antonio, Texas to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Unofficially, highways in the United States and Canada continue the highway to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, and highways in Argentina continue to Ushuaia. It stretched, according to Lt. Urashima, a total of 47,958 km (29,800 miles). Kenji couldn't imagine such a thing. The distance from Sapporo to Nagasaki was only about 2,878.4 km.

"Japan seems so small compared to the West," said Kenji.

"You'll find that many European countries are smaller than Japan," said Lt. Urashima. "Though, Japan is only the since of California in the US."

"Honto (really)?"

"So da (really)," laughed Urashima.

As they sailed through the canal they passed a Soviet merchant vessel. The Japanese glared at it suspiciously. The Soviets too looked on in disgust at the Asian lapdogs of the Americans, but they couldn't help but be disconcerted by the sheer number ships heading West.

* * *

**1137 Hours; April 15****th****, 2012: Flag Bridge, JFS Sutsuru; Lake Gatun, Republic of Panama**

Lake Gatun was a massive lake in the middle of Panama. It was used as part of the canal to link the Atlantic and Pacific sides. It meant that a canal at to be dug to the lake from both sides instead of digging a canal across the entire country, which was doable but horribly expensive and risky.

Rear Admiral Byuten gazed out at the Gatun Locks. Once the Sutsuru passed through them they could sail straight into the Caribbean Sea. A destroyer was currently ahead of them. The other lock was occupied by a Swedish automobile transport. Out on the flight deck were the pilots and mechanics. They were trying to occupy their time since the Panamanian government didn't want Japanese warplanes flying over their territory. The airspace was also too crowded by US planes and Japanese helicopters still ferrying mail to and from the fleet.

Behind him were Lieutenant Hinamori and Chief Petty Officer Ohara. Ohara was busying herself looking at a computerized plot of their course. She placed both her index fingers on the screen and moved them away from each other to zoom in. She checked over a couple of petty officers keeping a paper chart in case the computerized one failed.

"Wakarimashita (I understand)," said Momo on the phone with Rear Admiral JG Nishigawa Ichiro, a squadron commander. "Admiral, Admiral Nishigawa says he's in position and is beginning picketing duty and ASW operations.

"So ka, ii (I see, good)," said Byuten. Nishigawa's squadron was centered about a cruiser and had about eight ships under his command. Rear Admiral JG Omori Aya's squadron was just finishing passing through the locks. Her squadron had only five ships, but it was three frigates, a destroyer, and a carrier. Next would be the Sutsuru's squadron. Seven squadrons, each with 5-7 ships. More than forty ships. That wasn't counting the non-combatant vessels. The entire fleet was probably 90 ships.

"Himamori, you can take your leave now," said Byuten. "I don't foresee anything exciting happening for a while."

"Aye, Admiral," said Momo. "Miyuki-san, ikō (shall we go; informal)?"

"Hai, Lieutenant," said Ohara.

They exited the flag bridge saluting the marine guard on their way out.

"Saa, nani o doko ni iku (where should we go)?" asked Momo stretching her arms as they walked.

"Eto, watashi, galley ni iku to omoimasu (Uh, I think I would go to the galley)," said Miyuki.

"So ka?" said Momo thoughtfully. "Jā, atashi (1) mo (Then, I will too)."

"Eeh? I'm not allowed in the officers' galley," said Miyuki.

"Ie, ii wa yo (No, it's okay). It's only if you aren't with an officer," said Momo.

Miyuki nervously entered the officers' galley. She felt like all eyes were on her when in reality few people noticed an NCO amongst them. Miyuki noticed the officers' galley was a little nicer than the enlisted one. She quickly got her food and then joined Momo at a table.

They were soon joined by a pilot. "Konnichiwa, Momo-chan."

"Konnichiwa, Megumi-chan," said Momo to Sagano Megumi, one of the F-14 pilots aboard the Sutsuru.

"Donata?" asked Megumi seeing Miyuki who jumped at the question.

"My aide, Chief Ohara Miyuki," said Momo.

"Hajimemashite. Lt. JG Sagano Megumi, 4th Naval Fighter Squadron of the 2nd Naval Fighter Group. Yoroshiku."

"Hai!" said Miyuki a little too loudly snapping to attention. "Hajimemashite. Chief Petty Officer Ohara Miyuki de gozaimasu. Dozo yoroshiku onegaishimasu."

"… domo (thanks)," said Megumi a little stunned at Miyuki's formality. "Please, relax. I'm only a Lieutenant Junior Grade."

"Sumimasen," apologized Miyuki hanging her head. She was completely embarrassed.

"Hai, hai, don't mind (2)," said Momo patting Miyuki on her back.

"What's all the noise?" asked another pilot setting a tray down next to Megumi and taking a seat.

"Miyuki-chan seems a little on edge," said Momo.

"So desu ka? Miyuki-chan wa dore (Is that so? Who's Miyuki)?" asked Ensign Asakawa Yuka in a monotone.

"Momo's aide," said Megumi.

"So ka? Konnichiwa, Ensign Asakawa Yuka. Megumi's wingman. Yoroshiku."

"Yoroshiku," mumbled Miyuki with her face in her arms and avoiding eye-contact.

"Saa, Miyuki-chan, kare aru (So, Miyuki-chan, you have a boyfriend)?" asked Sagano.

"Eh? Oh, ie, arimasen (No, I don't have one). Watashi wa isogashii desu (I'm too busy)," she said looking up at the brunette.

"Eeh? That's no fun," said Megumi shaking her head. "You ever been kissed?"

"H-hai," stuttered Miyuki who looked at her superior for help.

"Megumi-chan, I think you should lay off her a little," said Momo sweat-dropping.

"Hai, hai," said Megumi bubbly.

"Arigato," whispered Miyuki. Momo was truly a great person in her eyes.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" asked Megumi.

Miyuki sighed and nodded. "Kōkō no ga arimashita (In high school I had one)."

"Ever been laid?"

"EEH?" shrieked Miyuki. Everyone looked up at the Chief Petty Officer who was on her feet with a look of shock on her bright red face. "Eto… sumimasen."

She sat down quickly completely embarrassed.

"Megumi-chan, chotto ecchi wa ne (Megumi-chan, isn't that a little ecchi)?" asked Yuka.

"Megumi, dame (Megumi, that's horrible)," scolded Momo. She stuck out her tongue and said, "Chikan (pervert)."

"Chigau (you're wrong)," said Megumi. "I was just curious."

"That's something you'd expect a pervert to say," said Yuka flatly as she took a sip of her tea.

"Some wingman you are," said Megumi.

Miyuki watched this back and forth exchange of words. She still felt embarrassed and knew people were now staring at them, but she was slowly feeling less self-conscious. She started to giggle.

"Women," said a Commander JG shaking his head.

* * *

**1445 Hours; April 16****th****, 2012; upper deck, JFNS Hanabira; Bahia Limon, Panamanian Waters**

Kenji stood watching Panama slowly disappear. They were entering the Caribbean Sea. He wondered what strange foreign lands they would pass next.

As an enlisted soldier, Kenji wasn't privileged to know where he was going, only the generally area he was supposed to arrive. He was told he would be in Europe and would probably land in Albania.

Kenji didn't know that they would sail northeastwardly and pass south of Puerto Rico, then go between US and British Virgin Islands and the British Leeway Islands. This would mean they would only pass Islands controlled by the United States, the United Kingdom, France, or the Netherlands. It would then be a straight course to the Strait of Gibraltar. Kenji also didn't know that Albanian had fallen to the JNA a few days previous. That wasn't a secret, but it wasn't common knowledge yet. It was a secret that the Japanese commanders didn't know where they would be landing.

Still, soldiers in Western armies and their allies were usually more privileged to information than their Communist counterparts, especially the Soviets. In the Soviet Armed Forces maps were classified documents and anyone below the rank of lieutenant junior was not encouraged to know where they were beyond a general location. In NATO militaries the enlisted soldiers were also not usually allowed access to maps, but NCOs and officers did have access to the info. If Kenji asked, he probably would be told where he was. If he wrote home about it he might be arrested. He wondered if the letters had gotten back home.

* * *

**1450 Hours; April 16****th****, 2012 (UCT+9); Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

**Western Caribbean Standard Time (UCT-5): 0250 April 16****th****, 2012**

Yakumo was returning from classes. She had been depressed since Kenji had left and was even more so when she heard that Albanian had fallen. She didn't know if that was a good or bad thing for Kenji. She decided it was probably bad. She rode her bike from the station and into their driveway.

She circled around to the front of the house to check the mail box. To her surprise it was stuffed with letters.

She quickly grabbed the stack and went back inside. There were letters she Mai, Tenma, and herself. She sorted them and then took the ones addressed to her up to her room. She opened the first one and began to read.

_Dear Yakumo_

_I've started writing this the day after we set sail. I can't some things or else they'll censor it. I don't know what to really tell you that you don't already know or won't get my court-martialed. They tell us we'll be coming to Europe._ (The next sentence was censored). _You have to see it to believe it. It looks like the commanders have planned out our activities for the most part. We'll get free time, but they don't want us idle for most of the day. I guess they don't want us wasting time._

_I don't know when we'll arrive in Europe. They say weeks. But I'll get to see_ (censored)_. I wonder if _(censored)_. They say the Mediterranean Sea is really warm. I wonder if we'll get to swim in it. Some of the men excited about meeting European women, but if they're anything like Sawachika then I think I'd rather meet these Yugoslavians in battle first._

_Love, Kenji_

She opened a second one:

_Dear Yakumo_

_Our officers say that our mail won't be taken off the ship until we reach _(censored)_. So you, Tenma-chan, and Mai-chan will probably receive all these letters at once. Our days are planned out with morning drills, lectures, patrolling the decks, and then free time. The drills we basically just exercise and practice martial arts. _(Censored). _So we only jog around the ship and stuff. They have some weights and equipment for more exercise. Lectures are done by our officers. Lt. Matsumoto tends to sleep while Captain Hitsugaya and Lt. Urashima do the work. They're assisted by their sergeants. We like our new platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Class Sakashita Akiko. She doesn't talk much, but she takes good care of Lt. Urashima. You know how much we like our platoon leader. A lot of the guys are seasick, but I'm fine. I don't know if you remember that time I ran away and joined a fishing crew… did anyone notice I was gone? Anyways, I'm fine. Poor Haruki is sick as a dog. I'll write again soon_

_Love, Kenji_

A few letters later:

_Dear Yakumo,_

_We passed some outer island of Japan's. I didn't even know it existed. Captain Hitsugaya lost it today and kicked Lt. Matsumoto while she was sleeping on her stool during his lecture. It's probably the most exciting thing we've seen since we left Japan. Lt. Urashima then tripped over her and ripped off her tunic. SFC Sakashita smoothed the whole thing over in one move. If only we had her while I was in high school. She's like Takano-san, but more companionate and doesn't blackmail the whole company. Later the officers had some kind of intervention. It ended with them running away with Lt. Matsumoto's sake and dumping in the enlisted galley. We've never seen Lt. Matsumoto so angry and out of control. She took out the 3__rd__ platoon leader, but Lt. Urashima handled the situation._

_Love, Kenji_

Yakumo finished the last of the letters. She had sent Kenji food and hopefully enough for his squad. She wondered if he got it okay. Yakumo had assumed the mail would go directly to him and didn't know that they would hold it somewhere for two weeks. She sighed and picked up her textbooks. She sat down in the living room and opened the sliding doors to the porch. She then sat at the low table and began to do class work.

There was no denying her life was settling in a routine. Of course, her life had always been a routine of some sort, but she objected to the one she had now. She missed Kenji. He had appeared in her life over four years ago and had made a profound change in it. In fact Yakumo noticed that everyone's lives had changed since the Spring 2008. She remembered seeing Kenji and not knowing how involved he would become in her life. How could she have known?

Yakumo smiled at the imagined image of the young 16-year-old Tsukamoto Yakumo entering high school. She had been alone with no friends despite being the center of attention. Attention she never wanted. Kenji had inadvertently entered her life. She'd seen him around, but her first time really meeting him at been in the Summer 2008. He'd been working part-time with an air-conditioning repairman. He seemed to have barely noticed her and that got her attention. He later helped her cat, Iroi, with a thorn in his pawn. She hadn't even noticed the thorn. He loved animals and Yakumo started to yearn for a closer connection with him, if only because he loved animals too. She later found him crying, she didn't find out why until much later. Kenji was nothing like what she had expected. She remembered him and his animals who he had named after European leaders like Pytor the giraffe for Pytor Akexeyevich Romanov (aka Peter the Great) or the pig he named after Napoleon Bonaparte. He said he'd got the idea from a book called Animal Farm. Kenji had told her that he thought it was a probably a Western children's book and not known it was one of the most famous political books in the West. Kenji was a little smarter than some people credited him. Napoleon had died in January 2010 and Pytor was moved to the Ueno Zoo in Tokyo.

But they had become their closest when she found an envelope let on a table in the café she had worked at while in high school. He had raced back for it once he realized he forgot it and snatched it from her hands. As he walked away Yakumo remembered Kenji stopping and turning to look at her. He then asked what she thought of it. Yakumo could still see him shaking as she scrutinized the pages of his manga. She liked the story, but had thought the characters lacked development. She voiced it and Yakumo thought she had hurt his feelings. She remembered he was a little more sensitive than the other boys. He had in fact thought she was a genius. Yakumo remembered the tone he'd used and how much he took her opinions seriously. Her life became a lot more complicated that day, but Yakumo had never regretted it.

"Daijōbu (I'm okay)," she assured herself looking at the ring.

She thought of the little Yakumo that day in April 2008. She could see the younger Kenji starting a commotion that day. Yakumo realized that she rarely thought about her future. She thought hard about herself when she would be 30. Her hair finally reached halfway down her back. She's holding the hands of a little boy with red eyes and a girl with black eyes. Next to her is a man walking with her holding the hands of a boy and girl.

She tore a pick of notebook paper and started to write.

_Dear Kenji,_

_I got you letters today. Nee-san and Mai-chan aren't home yet. Nee-san misses Karasuma-sempai a lot. I'm glad to hear he is doing well. I hope you will look out for him for Nee-san, I know she'll appreciate that. What does Karasuma-sempai do? I don't understand what a S6 is. I'll ask Mai-chan. Mai-chan is out playing with her friends. She's made good friends with those Korean girls. She says one is an old friend from Pusan. I don't know if she said where the other one is from. You remember Min Ho-chan and Seo-chan, right? Kosuke-kun, Ichijō-sempai's little brother, and Mio-chan have come over to study with Mai-chan and the others. I think Kosuke-kun has a little crush on Mai-chan._

_Nee-san is going to classes and is doing fine. She seems a little jealous we're getting married before her, but she's very happy for us._

_They tell us the war will probably be over by the time you arrive in Europe, but they also say Albania fell to the Yugoslavian Army. What does that mean for you? Kenji, I'm worried. I miss you. Please be careful. My classes are going okay. A lot of the boys in my class are leaving me alone since they first say my engagement ring… I may have also let slip you're over 180 cm and weigh about 79 kg and you're in the Army. Gomen. Please come home soon._

_Love, Yakumo_

* * *

**0710 Hours; April 23****rd****, 2012; Upper Deck, JFNS Hanabira; Strait of Gibraltar, International Waters**

For centuries, since the rise of Western Europe after the Dark Ages, the Strait of Gibraltar was one of the most important maritime routes in the world. Gibraltar itself was not part of Spain, but part of the United Kingdom. The British had taken Gibraltar after a four year siege ending in 1783 and had controlled it since to assure the Spanish could not deny the British access to the Mediterranean and their colonies. When the Suez Canal was completed in 1859 the Strait of Gibraltar became the primary route to Asia from Europe as to avoid the dangerous seas off the coast of South Africa.

Kenji was staring at the Iberian Peninsula, his first look at Europe. There was a Spanish frigate north of them chasing away fishing trawlers that got too close to the Japanese. It was so warm here. The Atlantic Ocean was rather cold, but the Mediterranean was quite warm. This also mad for rough currents and a new round of seasickness from the soldiers.

"Ohayo," said a voice.

"Eh?" Kenji grunted. When he saw who it was he snapped to attention, "Ohayo gozaimasu, Colonel Daijin."

"At ease, PFC," said Colonel Daijin leaning against the railing. "Kirei nee (Pretty, isn't it)?"

"So desu ne," agreed Kenji. "Spain jā nai desu ne (That's Spain, right)?"

"So (it is)," said the Colonel. "I haven't been this far west before. I went to American once."

"So desu ka?"

"So, Private, do you know where we are going?" asked Colonel Daijin.

"Ie, ma'am," said Kenji.

"You'll find out soon enough," said Colonel Daijin. "Have you been practicing your drills properly, Private?"

"Hai, ma'am."

"Are you prepared to fight for the free world, soldier?" asked the Colonel.

"Hai, ma'am!" snapping to attention.

"Do your country proud, soldier. Out here, we are the representatives of the Federation of Japan. The locals will have never seen Japanese before so behave yourselves. You know why we are fighting the Yugoslavs?"

"Because when you fight one member of NATO you fight all of them?" suggested Kenji. "One of corporals says it's because they're Communists."

"This isn't about Communism, Private. That's very important. Do you know why?"

"Saa… wakarimasen (I don't know)."

"Because if we do this would turn into a war between Capitalism and Communism. That would mean a war of NATO and its allies against the Communist world. Orders from Tokyo are to not in any way widen the war beyond our given theater of operations. PFC Harima," said the Colonel looking at him. She got his name of the name tag on his tunic. "PFC Harima, there are 23,000 Soviets in Romania, Bulgaria, and Moldova. We don't need to turn this into a war against Communism and give Ivan an excuse to fight."

"Ivan?"

"The Russians."

"Oh, wakarimashita."

She checked her watch. "Shitsurei-shimashita (excuse me)."

"Hai. Sayonara, Colonel."

"23,000 Soviets?" asked one of the 3rd Squad soldiers when they were in their quarters that night.

"That's what the Colonel said," said Kenji. "Tokyo doesn't want the Russians to have an excuse to deploy those soldiers. I don't why they would though."

"What are they, scared? We can take those Red bastards," said Somizu.

"23,000," said Hiroyoshi, "that's about two divisions. That's a lot of Soviets. They'll have tanks, infantry assault vehicles, artillery, etc."

"Kuzo," cursed Ichigo.

"The war will probably be over before we get there," said Renji lying on his bunk. "Then we'll have to ride this shit-heap back to Japan."

"Thanks, any more happy thoughts?" asked Miyu who was reading a book on her bunk.

"Ee, arrive, the war's still on and we have to fight our way through one essentially worthless piece of land to the next," said Hiroyoshi.

"Arigato, Sgt. Asou," said Miyu.

"What do you think, Karasuma?" asked Kenji.

"Eh?" exclaimed several soldiers at once.

"Nani?" asked Kenji innocently.

"When the hell did he get here?" demanded Ichigo pointing at Karasuma.

"Wakanai (I don't know)," said Kenji shrugging. "Nani? Ah, so nee. I wouldn't be too sure of anything either."

Hiroyoshi looked over at Kenji and Karasuma. "Uh, they're right. With our luck we shouldn't be too positive of anything. The Americans have already put their troops on the ground. Most of us have seen the Yanki (Yankees), Germans, and the English fight. From what I hear, these Yukes don't sound that bad compared to the People's Liberation Army. The Red Army however is supposed to be a force to be reckoned with."

"Even if the war isn't over, we might not do anything. The Europeans and the Americans will probably have it all covered," said Uryu.

"I wouldn't be so sure," said Karasuma. All eyes turned to stare at him. Karasuma rarely said a word… let alone a complete sentence.

* * *

**2130 Hours; April 23****rd****, 2012; US European Command HQ, Stuttgart; Baden-Württemberg, Federal Republic of Germany**

"The Japanese are now past Gibraltar. Where the hell do we want them?" asked General Kramer.

"The Marines are in position. The Japs have a marine division, right?" asked USMC Lt. General Ferrer.

"Far as I know," said Kramer.

"We deploy them here on the Albanian coast to retake. Then we use their ground troops to push up from Greece. Those SOBs really are screwing us over," grumbled Ferrer. Greece and Turkey were having 'diplomatic difficulties' over having Turkish troops in Greece, even to repel a possible Yugoslavian attack.

"The President will sort that out. She's on the war path, no pun intended. God help those Greeks and Turks if they don't come to an agreement when the President demands it."

"We may not need it," said Brigadier General McNamara, commander of the 170th Infantry Brigade. McNamara was not involved in the war in the Balkans. His brigade was assigned to manning the Iron Curtain with other NATO divisions.

"So you say, Jim," said Kramer.

"Trust me, Frank. You and George are forgetting that the Japanese are bringing their own tanks to play. These guys have traversed half the world to come here. They brought everything with them. We use their mechanized regiments to push up from Greece. It's that or we start pulling troops from Germany."

"I don't like that," said Major General Alice Donovan, commander of the 3rd Armored Division, shaking her head. "The Soviets are acting weird, even by their standards. I don't like it."

"I want the Third Herd to stay in Germany," agreed General Kramer. "Plus, Ivan has put a new division in Poland. They're going through drills."

"This close to the Iron Curtain?" asked Ferrer.

"Why not? We do it all the time," said Donovan. The US Army units in Europe spent most of their time in Germany including training drills.

"It's odd for them. They usually run drills further away from us. The Ukraine, Romania, Kazakhstan, those are their usually training grounds if they don't do it in their own damn country," said Kramer. "So the 3rd and 2nd Armored stays in place. So does the 4th Infantry. I can pull some of the 101st Airborne, but let's see how the Japanese do. I've never seen them fight, but their sending over their vets from Korea. Who's their commander?"

A sergeant major tapped the screen on his computer. "Lieutenant General Keiji Honnoji, age 39. Born: Nagoya, Japan. Commands the IV Corps. His command includes four divisions, but he only has Army divisions and one Marine division. A lot of the Japanese military are reservists, but they train the hell out of them, sir."

"Thank you, Sergeant Major," said General Kramer. "Colonel Carroll, anything you'd like to add?"

"There's a lot of chatter going from BIA's field agents to Belgrade. The Yugoslavians take their political doctrine from the Soviets. General Soviet opinion of the Japanese is they are a bunch of monarch-worshipping imperialists, but the Yugoslavians are now worried. That fleet of Japanese ships has them scared, more than us. They can't believe this conflict is being taken seriously enough for Japan to move all these troops to fight them. The Soviets too are also worried. The KGB have been monitoring the Japanese since they left their ports. They tried tracking them with their subs, but the Japanese caught them. The response from the KGB and GRU field agents to their comm stations to Moscow Central shows a state of stun surprise. The Soviets knew Japan could move their troops like this, but not the scale of it."

"So the Japanese are scaring the Commies more than us?" asked General Donovan.

"Yes, ma'am. Everyone knew they could move they're Army, but not this many of them," said Colonel Carroll. "Shit, ma'am, I didn't think they could do this. That's the reason they deployed new troops to Poland."

"How'd you figure that?" asked Ferrer.

"NSA picked up some of the pieces. That and Ivan has increased activity over in Asia."

"So we use the 26th Marines with the Japanese marines and land along the coast. Here I think. South of Sarandë. Now Sarandë will make a nice port if we can clear out the hill north of the city where the Yukes can pummel us with arty. The island of Corfu (Kerkyra) is still in Greek hands. We can put our artillery on there. It'd be near the max range of the M777. The MLRS might be better suited. It'd be perfect for staging my Cobras and Harriers," said General Ferrer.

"Okay. Sounds like a plan. Oh, George," said General Kramer.

"Yeah?"

"The Brits say they can put one of their Marine battalions to use. We're taking charge of the counter-attack so they'll go where you want them."

"Right, thanks."

* * *

**0800 Hours; April 25****th****, 2012; JFNS Hanabira, Mediterranean Sea; south of the Ionian Sea entrance, International Waters**

"Attention!" shouted Sergeant Major Neya. The officers and NCOs of 81st snapped to attention. There wasn't enough room for all the soldiers. NCOs and junior officers were expected to brief the enlisted soldiers themselves.

Colonel Daijin Shiori stepped up to the podium and picked up a remote control. She gave it a click and a projector came on. The words 'Operation: Starburn' appeared on screen.

"This is Operation: Starburn. This is a multi-phase operation to retake parts of Albania with the ultimate objective to liberate all of the Republic of Albania. Step one does not immediately concern us. Code named Operation: Sirius."

The imaged showed a bunch of blue rectangles with markings showing what size unit they were and which unit. A serious of arrows showed their intended battle plans. Colonel Daijin clicked the remote and the next slide showed the area around Sarandë.

"Sarandë is the main south port in Albania. We want it back. There aren't adequate rail lines from Greece to Albania and the highways are questionable. It would be best for our supply lines if we can take this port in tacked. The US 3rd Marine Battalion will strike south of the city with our 1st Marine Regiment. The Americans will use amphibious craft to put their troops ashore. The 1/3 will also land on the beaches with them. The 3/3 will use choppers and land further inland to protect the beachhead from counterattacks. The 2/3 Marines will stay back and once the others secure their objectives the 2nd Battalion will push inland. The Americans will then deploy a squadron of the 91st Cavalry Regiment to take the city. The Germans have an armored regiment ready for deployment too, but only with the Marines can secure a save path to the beaches for them."

The next slide showed to the east of Sarandë. It showed the 2nd Brigade Combat Team of the 6th Infantry Division. The 80th Light Infantry Regiment, 81st Mechanized Infantry Regiment, and the 82nd Infantry Regiment were shown on the Greek border. There was also the 35th Artillery Regiment backing them. So were multiple battalions of logistic units and a squadron of attack helicopters.

"Colonel Daijin!" spoke up SSG Asou.

"Hai, Staff Sergeant," said Daijin looking up at the young NCO.

"Are we the only regiment attacking?"

Colonel Daijin saw all eyes fix on her. "Hai. The Americans have dubbed our troops the most experienced in mountain combat after reviewing our performance in Korea. This is called Operation: Prospector. Our Brigade will attack only the Vlorë County. The 1st Brigade will push up the valley north of us on Gjirokastër along the Drino River. The Germans will here on the north side of the Mal Nemërçkë Mountains along the Vjosa River to cover our flank. We have the simple objective of linking up with the marines in Sarandë."

Then the next slide which showed the land north of Sarandë.

"The ground is mountainous north of Sarandë. Once we link up with the marines the third stage of the operation will begin. Operation: Deadwood will be a landing on the mountains and hills north of Sarandë. As you can imagine pushing through those mountains will not be an easy task as we may end up clearing out one hilltop fortress after another. I don't want to experience the Taegu Campaign again."

There were a series of noises and nods in agreement.

"The 2nd Marine Regiment will land along with the British 42nd Royal Marines. They'll have naval and air support and try to draw away some of the Yugoslav forces. Once we get past the Mal i Gribës Mountains it's open land pretty much all the way to the Albanian capital of Tirana, but our objective is to take the larger port city of Vlorë and the provincial capital.

"The US operation is sound in principle. Let us hope Amaterasu-no-Kami-sama and Hachiman-no-Kami-sama (3) will bless us. The plan hinges on us being superior in mountain combat. I have secured as much fire support as possible for this operation. Do not overextend yourselves. Operation: Starburn will begin as soon as we have our troops in position, but D-Day is set for the 30th. We land in Athens on the 27th. Hopefully, we'll have our assets in place by then. Questions?"

Several hours later.

"And that's the gist of it," said SSG Asou Hiroyoshi.

"So we're leading the attack?" asked Haruki.

"Hai. Nearly the entire division is committed to this operation. Intel suggests that the JNA does not know of our intentions yet, but when they see our Marine Corps approaching the Albanian coast they might figure it out. That's why we strike at nearly the same time, but the Americans having decided who goes first."

"What kind of resistance are we expecting, sir?" asked Fiona.

"Not a lot," said Hiroyoshi. He pulled out a pad of paper and drew a crude map. "My guess is that they'll see us coming and be ready for us, but I don't think these guys will have time to dig in heavily, not like the KPA did. These guys I think won't have any idea of who we are and what we can do. The word is that they won't take us seriously. We strike fast and push over what defenses we can as quickly as possible. These guys are armed for offensive operations. I think once we break them we'll have the momentum to run through them until we reach Sarandë."

"And if they dig in?" asked Corporal Ikuro Miyu.

"Shock and awe?" asked PFC Kitsumori Kazu looking at his squad leader.

Hiroyoshi nodded, "Shock and awe. There are about 500,000 tons of munitions reserved for our sector alone. That's just the Federal Air Force."

500,000 tons equated to about to at least 250 bombs, but was probably more in the area of 400-500 bombs.

"Are the Yankis doing anything?" asked Jupei Miho.

"Wakanai (I don't know). In other areas yes, but I don't know what troops they have on the ground in our sector. It looks like it will just be use and the Germans. I think they will take the capital once we secure Vlorë."

"What about the 10th?" asked Ichigo.

"Zenzen wakanai data (I have no idea)," said Hiroyoshi. "The Americans seem to be in charge and they don't seem to have plans for the 10th."

"How much authority do the Americans have over us?" asked Kenji.

"I think once we start the operation our commanders will do as they please as long as they complete the objectives. It doesn't matter at our level. The Americans are in charge of operations in the Balkans and this may be their plan, but this is a Japanese operation. We will be using mostly our own troops and most of the support will come from our own military. Any questions? Hai, Ishida?"

"How do we get to the front?"

"We land in Athens and then we'll be shipped to the front by rail, I think."

"What language do the locals speak?" asked Haruki.

"The Greeks speak Greek and the Albanians speak Albanian. Most of these countries have their own languages," explained Hiroyoshi.

"Do we have anyone who speaks any of those languages?" asked Kenji.

"Not in this squad," said Hiroyoshi. "I don't even think we have anyone in this platoon. We have some English speaking soldiers, I think a German speaking soldier somewhere, and a Russian speaking soldier."

"Doesn't Lt. Urashima speak one of the languages?" asked Miho. Lt. Urashima in question did not. He spoke Russian and Serbian in addition to Arabic and English.

"Wakanai," said Hiroyoshi.

"So we can't communicate with them?" asked Renji.

"So da to omou (I think so)," said Hiroyoshi.

"And no one saw a problem with that?" asked Uryu while he cleaned his glasses.

"Hai," said Hiroyoshi rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. "They'll be printing the good old pamphlets with the list of 'useful phrases'."

There was a collective grown from 5th Squad.

* * *

**1049 Hours; April 27****th****, 2012; JFNS Hanabira, Athens; Attica Periphery, Hellenic (Greek) Republic**

Athens, Greece was the capital and largest city in Greece. Athens has been known to be continuously inhabited for around 7,000 years and is one of the oldest cities in Europe. It was named for the goddess Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom. The great city-state emerged as one of the premier powers of the Classical Era along with Persia and Sparta, but Athens is credited as the birth of modern Western civilization. Ironically, in 2010 poor economic manage of Greece nearly caused the collapse of the Europe so Greece jokingly has been called the 'near-death of Western civilization'. In fact Greece was still under some sort of probation by the rest of the European Union for nearly destroying the value of the Euro and sending the world into chaos.

Kenji was descending the gangway to the dock. Kenji was now dressed in his combat uniform with his vest on. Over his shoulder were his pack and rifle and his helmet dangled from pack. Uryu said they were doing this as a show of force. It was impossible to keep their arrival a secret and the JNA knew where they would probably go. It was obvious to many of them that the war wasn't going to end before they get to the front.

Kenji looked at the Greeks as curiously as they looked at him. The Athenians had seen Japanese, Korean, and Chinese merchantmen before, but never soldiers. Kenji noticed some of the Greeks dressed in ways he'd only seen in movies. He saw women dressed in dresses with scarf tied around their heads. He saw men in trousers being held up by suspenders and wearing a style of hat called a Greek fishermen's cap. Others, mainly younger people closer to his age, dressed in T-shirts, shorts, jeans, etc. All seemed relatively happy to see the foreign troops heading for the front and some were waving NATO flags.

Each platoon had one soldier carry a Japanese flag and they marched on the main streets along the port. The city was a bit tense and the Japanese could see it. They didn't know that many Greeks thought that Yugoslav troops would be invading them. Kenji smiled at little children who followed the soldiers for brief moments. The children even tried imitating the Japanese and tried marching much the amusement of the soldiers. Some of the locals shook their hands as they march through the streets saying things to them the Japanese couldn't understand. Kenji was even kissed on the cheek by young girl much to his embarrassment.

"No one repeats this ever," he growled.

"Got it," said the others seeing the look on his face.

Kenji couldn't believe he was really in Europe. The city looked so old. Many Japanese cities were older, but most of the original buildings had not survived various civil wars or World War II. In the distance he could catch glimpses of the Parthenon. It was one of the oldest structures in Europe. Some of the soldiers were grumbling about marching with full packs in the sun, but Kenji and the others knew this was nothing. Finally they reached a rail yard near a set of docks where the tanks and heavy equipment was being unloaded.

To the surprise of many of the Japanese soldiers there were a couple of old steam engines being used for hauling troop trains with diesel locomotives. Some of the Greek rolling stock looked a bit dated. The Japanese were even less thrilled when they were loaded into freight cars.

Kenji saw one train pull out on its way to northwestern Greece.

"Kore (here)," said a corporal as he placed a crate in front of Kenji.

"Domo," said Kenji picking it up and carrying it over to his squad. On the crate it said:

Property of the Japanese Federal Army

NATO 5.52x45 mm

5th squad pried open the crate and started to load cupronickel jacketed ammo into their magazines. Kazu came back with 7.62x51 mm rounds which Uryu and Kenji used in their M21 and M14. Next .45 caliber APCs and 12 gauge shells were issued. Each soldier then got three M67 fragmentation grenades, except Renji and Miho who had M203 grenade launchers mounted on their rifles. Every soldier got two white smoke grenades. Hiroyoshi, because he was an NCO, was issued colored smoke grenades. The Japanese also had some new equipment on their weapons. Some of 5th squad now had foregrips on their weapons and nearly all of them had reflex sights on their guns.

Haruki was admiring the Aimpoint CompM4, a reflex sight popularly used by the US Army and Marine Corps. They didn't have any magnification on them. There were attachments for Aimpoint products to make the CompM4 an x2 or x4 scope. Haruki had the attachment for the x2 magnification.

Miyu had her M4A1 carbine in her lap. Her carbine had a foregrip on it for better handling in close combat, especially on full-auto. There was also a CompM4, but magnification. A small LED flashlight was also attached to the side of the barrel that most of the carbines and assault rifles had.

Kenji and Kazu didn't get scopes of any kind.

"Is this cupronickel or steel?" asked Kazu opening one of the canisters containing a 100-round belt of 7.62x51 mm rounds.

"Cupronickel," said Kenji loaded the same type of FMJ (Full Metal Jacket) into his magazines.

"Was there any match-grade?" asked Uyru. Sharpshooters and snipers normally used a special powder grade called match grade. Match grade ammo meant it was ammo for competitions, or matches. It had the least amount of possible imperfections and it was used by marksmen across the world as an alternative to the more powerful magnums.

"I can go look," said Kenji.

When they finished with collecting their gear and loading their weapons they were directed to board a train with the rest of 2nd Battalion. An old steam locomotive lurched forward and began to depart the yard with 2nd Battalion loaded into freight cars. Kenji sat in the open door of a box car.

Some soldiers were singing. The Japanese military lacked military marches… or ones that the US hadn't banned during the occupation. The problem was that most of their military marches were offensive and talked about killing Americans and Englishmen. Handful of ones they had been mostly ones written recently.

There was tension settling on the train. The new recruits were faced with the reality they were going to war.

"_Farewell, farewell, our beloved Japan_

_Your sons and daughters our off again_

_Proudly we defend the freedom of our nation_

_Spirit of the samurai live on in the soldiers of the Federation_"

The train rattled on westward towards the Albanian border through the mountains of Greece. The Greek Railway seemed rather poorly maintained compared to the Shinkansen lines in Japan and its South Korean counterparts.

* * *

**1815 Hours; April 27****th****, 2012; Outpost AB-12, Mal Nemërçkë Mountains; Vlorë County, Republic of Albania**

"Comrade Colonel, take a look at this," said a captain. "They've been pouring in all day. I think there may be a whole division, but I don't know who they are."

"Hmmm," said Colonel Vuk Nedić picking up a powerful pair of binoculars. "Those don't look like Abrams, so they're not Yankees. Maybe Krauts. I seem vehicles that look like the Leopard, but I see infantry tanks that look like the Bradley."

"English, perhaps," suggested the captain.

"Da, perhaps… wait, I see a white flag with a prominent red circle. Japanese," said the Colonel. "Keep an eye on them, Comrade. I expect they will attack soon."

"Da, Comrade Colonel!"

Colonel Nedić walked to his staff car. A junior sergeant opened the door for him and he got in.

"The West again, Comrade Colonel?" asked Captain Tijana Jeremić, the Colonel's aide.

"Ne (no), Comrade," he said to the younger woman. "The East."

"Izvinite (Excuse me)?"

"The Japanese have made landfall and have sent a division to the front. Comrade General will not be pleased."

Colonel Nedič arrived at Major General Alexandar Marković, commander of the 11th Guards Infantry Division.

"Ah, Vuk, dobro veče (good evening)," said General Marković. "Kako ste (how are you)?"

"Dobro, hvala (Well, thanks), Comrade General," said Colonel Nedić. "But there is a troubling development on the border."

"Americans? British? Germans?" asked Marković bored. He knew NATO wasn't prepared for a counter-attack.

"Japanese."

"Eh?" grunted the General in surprise. "Well… how many of them are there?"

"By NATO standards a brigade size unit, so it would be a division by ours. I suspect more are on the way," said the Colonel.

"I see. Hvala (Thank you), Vuk. We'll need to act quickly. We aren't prepared to defend against a unit that large," said the General leaning back in his chair and twirling a pen in his hand. "We'll launch a surprise attack. I doubt they anymore prepared for a sudden attack than we are."

"Of course, Comrade General."

"I expect your regiment to be ready to move out."

"Da, Comrade General."

* * *

**0750 Hours; April 28****th****, 2012; Hellenic-Albanian Border, Pindus Mountains; Epirus Periphery, Hellenic Republic**

_Dear Yakumo_

_It's the start of my second day in Greece. Greece is really beautiful. It's not like Japan or South Korea. I never knew how similar our nations are. Greece is not much bigger than Japan, but a lot of less populated. Most of the people seem to leave near a couple of ports. The country also seems a little poorer than Japan. Haruki says they're recovering from an economic crisis from a few years back. I'm in the north of the country. There aren't a lot of big cities. It's almost like a fairy tale. Some people are still using horse drawn carts. I think that's just because they like them. I saw one guy hauling wheat with a cart and earlier he was using a John Deer tractor to plow his fields._

_I think the Americans want us do something. I can't say what, but I don't think this war will be ending soon. Still, it's really peaceful here. It's very quiet…_

"Nani?" asked Haruki noticing Kenji had suddenly stopped writing a letter and had looked up. They were sitting in a foxhole together. In the foxhole on their right were Kazu and Miho. On their left were Renji and Ichigo.

"Nani?" repeated Haruki. He peered over the top of the foxhole. "You hear something?"

"I don't hear anything," said Kenji.

Haruki froze. Kenji was right. It was too damn quiet for the country. They were situated on a small hill in the middle of some woods. The trees weren't thick and there wasn't a lot of brush, but you couldn't drive a tank or a truck through them.

There was a sound like distance thunder.

"I haven't heard that in a lot time," said Haruki.

"It has been a lot time hasn't it," said Kenji.

"Sounds like big guns," said Haruki. "130s."

"Probably," agreed Kenji. "What'd ya' say, 10 seconds to impact?"

"Sō nee," agreed Haruki. "… it's going high."

130 mm shells roared overhead and exploded on the opposite side slope of the hill.

"They don't know where we are," said Kazu watching the creeping barrage move away from the Japanese front lines.

"If they keep going back they may hit mortars," said Ichigo.

"Iya, look the barrage is lifting," said Renji.

"This is Echo Leader, all squads SITREP," ordered Captain Hitsugaya.

"1-1, we're fine."

"2-1, a little shaken but they didn't come close."

"3-1, a few tree branches were blown on my squad, but no wounded."

"4-1, all good. What the hell is happening?"

"5-1, we're fine and standing by."

Hiroyoshi listened to the other squad leaders report the same thing. He was peering over the rim of his foxhole for signs of movement. There was a light early morning mist and dust from the barrage was being carried towards the Albanian bordered by the wind.

"Echo Leader, are we cleared to shoot?" asked Hiroyoshi.

"Roger, all squads are cleared hot," ordered Tōshirō.

"Miru (you see anything)?" asked Kenji.

"Ie, mada mite inai (no, I still don't see anything)," said Haruki.

"Oi, kore (there)," whispered Kazu from his hole. The silhouettes of a platoon appeared from the mists.

"Matte (wait)," ordered Hiroyoshi.

"Copy," acknowledged his squad.

The Yugoslav soldiers were nearly walking upright. They were expecting this to be a walkover.

"Igor, what are you doing hunched over like that?" laughed a corporal.

"Trying not to get killed, and keep your voice down."

"Or what? You scared of these little Imperialists?"

"They may not be glorious socialists like us, but they still have guns," argued Igor a little too loudly.

"Igor our artillery should have-"

Whatever the corporal wanted to say to Igor, he would never finish. A burst of automatic fire ripped through the Yugoslavians and Igor, ironically, was killed instantly.

"Good shooting, Kazu. Rest of you, weapons free," ordered Hiroyoshi. He cocked the bolt on his Type 89 and selected semi-auto fire. He easily slid the red dot of his scope over the head of a JNA corporal. He fired and missed. Hiroyoshi's heart was racing. He was too tense to accurately hit the enemy. 'Relax, deep breath.'

He fired again. This time he hit a rifleman in the leg causing him to fall to the ground. Kenji was having better luck hitting the enemy… and the M14E3 fired a much bigger cartridge. He fired rapid single shots into groups of Yugoslav soldiers.

"Cease fire!" shouted Hiroyoshi. Silence fell over the line again. "Did they even return fire?"

"Ie, so da to omou (no, I don't think so)," said Miyu. "Was that it?"

The Yugoslav corporal was lying in the prone position breathing hard. The mist was hid him enough that the Japanese couldn't tell there was a living soldier amongst the corpses. He could see the outlines of helmets emerging from foxholes at random intervals and at least one machine gun scanning for more targets. They hadn't even seen the Japanese. They weren't even hidden, the Yugoslavians just hadn't expected them.

"Fucking battery crews, they didn't even hit them," he groaned. He saw his squad's radio-op. The corporal crawled to him and picked up the radio. He selected the frequency for his regimental HQ. "Comrades, this is 2nd squad. First wave ineffective. Artillery missed its mark. We need reinforcements, over?"

The corporal continued trying to contact his superiors. He was unaware that they were ignoring him thinking he was the enemy trying to fool them. The corporal looked back to see the next wave of soldiers, a full company.

"Get down!" he yelled as quietly as he could. A lieutenant paused and said, "What's the meaning of this?"

"They have an MG ahead," warned the corporal.

"Hvala, Comrade Corproal. We'll take care of these Imperialists."

He nodded. A platoon surged by him. The corporal was just standing up when he heard the dull rattling of an American-built M60. He dropped down to the ground as a tracer zoom over his head. He instinctively placed a hand on his helmet and tried to make himself as small as possible. He could see flashes from the Japanese foxholes and the black silhouettes of his comrades falling to the ground. He could hear confused cries from his comrades and sharp commands from a Japanese sergeant. He raised his M70 and fired a long automatic burst at the Japanese.

"Ack!" cried Kenji. A 7.62x39 mm round ricocheted off a nearby rock and bounced off his helmet.

"Daijōbu?" asked Haruki.

"Hai, it didn't go through," said Kenji. "Who's shooting?"

"I can't tell."

Kenji popped in a fresh magazine. "Where are our mortars?"

"We may not need them at this rate," said Kazu. "Shit, I think they're falling back again."

They heard the thunder of artillery again.

"Fuck. Whose?"

"Ours," said Kenji. "Those are 155s."

The shells roared far above them and exploded on the Albanian side of the border. It was probably counter-artillery.

"Are there more coming?"

"I don't think so."

Captain Hitsugaya waited for a while before calling battalion HQ.

"Major Nara, Hitsugaya here. Is there another wave?"

"We have a satellite on station now. They have a brigade assembling at the border. The Americans will take care of this. Actually, you should be seeing them soon."

Hitsugaya looked up and saw a pair of B-52 Stratofortresses flying overhead. They were very high up and were difficult to hear, but the B-52 had a very distinctive outline and Hitsugaya was sure they were B-52s… it seemed unlikely they were Soviet Tu-95s.

"I see two Stratofortresses."

"Two? There should be a whole squadron."

There was a loud series of explosions.

"Shit, can you see that Captain?"

"Hai, sir. Does the attack begin as scheduled?"

"As far as I know it does," said Major Nara.

Colonel Nedić watched in horror as an entire battalion was annihilated by the B-52s. "Comrade Captain, what is the situation down there?"

"We lost 1st Battalion. 2nd, 3rd, and 4th are reporting they are mostly okay."

"Order 2nd Battalion to set up a defensive line and have 4th see what they can do for the 1st."

"Da, Comrade Colonel," said Captain Jeremić.

"Is Colonel Vedić's regiment still pressing the attack?"

"Da, Comrade. It does not seem to be going all that well."

A number of the trees had been destroyed in sporadic mortar fire. Kazu was starting to worry his gun might overheat. "Miho-chan, can you set a belt next to me?"

"Hai," said Jupei Miho grabbing a container full of machine gun rounds.

The JNA were using fallen trees and shell holes for cover.

"Grenade! Grenade!" shouted Ichigo when an old RGD-5 (4) landed in his foxhole.

"Get rid of it!" shouted Renji.

"Don't yell at me!" shouted back Ichigo as he threw the grenade away. It exploded almost immediately and Renji felt pieces of shrapnel hit his vest.

"You should have gotten rid of it sooner!"

"Oi, you're still alive!"

"Urusai (shut up)!" shouted Hiroyoshi.

The mist was lifting a little, but now smoke and dust was starting to obscure the battlefield. Kenji ducked as a burst of 7.62 rounds zipped over his foxhole. The air was alive with the chatter of the Yugoslavians' M70, which made the same distinctive noise that the Kalashnikov family rifles made.

"They have an MG," reported Renji seeing a man with a M72, the Yugoslav light machine gun/automatic rifle (5) nearly a copy of the Soviet RPK.

"I have him," said Uryu training his M21 sniper rifle on the gunner. The gunner went down with one shot to the carotid artery and an explosion of blood. Uryu grimaced at the gory sight, but accepted it. This was war. A nagging voice did keep asking why they were halfway around the world fighting these guys.

Major Nara was watching from his foxhole. He had three companies engaged with the Yugoslav People's Army Ground Forces. He also had a weapon's company with one mortar platoon and an AT-platoon to support his troops like any battalion. The anti-tank platoon was mostly useless at this time, but the mortars were fully engaged.

"D Company, SITREP," ordered Nara.

"Enemy is pinned down, sir. Request fire support to send them back, how copy?"

"Solid copy. Working on allied air support, standby. Out."

Meanwhile on a distant hill was a group of news reporters. "This is Himura Aiko reporting from the Albanian-Greek Border. As you can see in the distance fighting between soldiers of the Yugoslav People's Army, or JNA as they abbreviate it, launched an early morning assault on our forces. Information is scarce at this moment, but so far it is reported that multiple waves of JNA infantry proved ineffective against our nation soldiers."

The people in Japan watching NHK World News saw a flight of F-2s release a payload of cluster bombs. Whatever hopes the Japanese had been clinging to that their military would miss the maybe fighting seemed to go up in flames with that air strike.

Kenji felt the ground shake from the CBU-87s the F-2s had dropped.

"Where's our air support?" demanded Renji.

"Don't shout in my ear!" shouted Ichigo.

"I'm not shouting in your ear! I'm shouting in a general direction!"

"Well quit shouting in a general direction which also happens to include my ears!"

"Well quit-!"

"Don't you two have something to do?" asked Hiroyoshi in a bored voice via radio.

"Like what?"

"Renji you idiot! That's our squad leader! Baka!"

"Who are you calling a baka?"

"You, jackass!"

"Both of you shut up!" roared Miyu.

"Hai, Corporal!"

"Sore mo baka (They're both idiots)," said grumbled to herself as she popped in a fresh clip.

"Sō desu ne," agreed Fiona.

A grenade went flying through the air and landed near the foxhole on their right flank.

"Shimata (Damn)! Man down! 5-15 is injured!" yelled Corporal Amakasu Noriyori. Pvt. Tsutsui Junkei's FN Minimi went silent.

"Ichigo, can you get to him?" asked Hiroyoshi.

"Eto, I don't know. There isn't a lot of cover between me and his hole."

"I can give him cover fire," said Renji in a completely serious voice.

"5-9?" asked Hiroyoshi.

"We'll have him covered," said Haruki. "You want smoke?"

"Hmm, that gives me an idea actually," said Hiroyoshi. He turned to PFC Toyotomi Katase, the radio-op. "Get me Whiskey Red."

"Hai, sir!"

"Whiskey Red," said a radio-op in 2nd Battalion's mortar platoon.

Ichigo leaped out of his foxhole went the first mortar rounds exploded. It made for a hell of a distraction for the JNA infantry.

"I'm in!" shouted Ichigo. "We're gonna' need a med-evac."

"I don't think that's going to be possible in the middle of this shit," said Hiroyoshi.

"Okay. He's not in immediate danger, but we'll need to send him back in a few hours," said Ichigo as he applied a bandage to Junkei's right arm. The vest had protected his shoulder, but the forearm and wrist looked bad. Ichigo could see nerves and exposed tandems. Ichigo doubted Junkei would ever have full use of this arm ever again.

"Echo 4-0, 5-1. We have a man down and need to get him out of here. How copy?"

"Solid copy, Staff Sergeant. Hang in there. The enemy will break soon. How copy?"

"Solid copy," said Hiroyoshi. "But we'd prefer sooner, over."

"Fast movers are in bound. That'll break their moral. ETA 140 seconds."

"Solid copy. 5-1, out."

Hiroyoshi let out a cry of pain as a bullet hit his shoulder. The vest protected him from the projectile, but the energy from the projectile's impact could be felt. He checked himself to make sure it hadn't gone through. It hadn't, but he'd be bruised and his shoulder would probably feel stiff for a while. "Those Air Force jackasses are sure taking their time."

Two minutes and 20 seconds seemed like an eternity. Kenji pulled an M67 from his vest and removed the pin. He hurled it and it exploded. Almost immediately after he heard the tell tale whine of approaching jet propelled aircraft. Kenji started to think he wasted a grenade when he saw the F-2s were on an attack run in their direction. Several small black objects came off the larger black silhouettes of the F-2s. The bombs scattered in midair.

"Cluster bombs," said Kenji.

"Heads down!" shouted Haruki. Cluster bombs were extremely dangerous close-in support weapons. In fact, most manuals would recommend one should not use the CBU-87 for close support, especially near infantry.

Kenji felt the bottom of his stomach drop as bomblets exploded nearby. He'd forgotten what close-in air support sounded and felt like. He was hoping he wouldn't have to be reminded what it felt like to be on the receiving end again.

"They're retreating," said Kenji.

"Ee," agreed Haruki. "Well that was fun."

Kenji snorted and started to laugh. No doubt the recruits would be heaving their breakfasts up. But Kenji and Haruki laughed. The scene of carnage before them was appalling. They were responsible for a lot of the deaths. They laughed because it helped them to cope with death. They also laughed because they were still alive.

A Type 73 Light Truck Shin, a small vehicle very similar in appearance and purpose to the American MUTT Jeep, came for Junkei and took him to the rear for treatment.

"Oi Tsutsui," said Haruki, before they took Junkei to the rear. "Hanging in there?"

"I'll live," said Junkei. "Ichigo did a damn good job."

"Ee," agreed Kenji.

"Tell me… how bad does this arm look?" asked Junkei looking Kenji straight into his eyes. Junkei knew Kenji was one of the worst liars.

Kenji didn't know how to answer him. He looked to Haruki and then to Ichigo for answers. He got none. He looked to his squad leader, but Hiroyoshi who shrugged.

"I don't know," answered Kenji pleading ignorance, something he was pretty good at doing.

"Well, I guess I'm going home early," said Junkei.

"Sō da ne," agreed the others. It was the closest to a straight answer.

"We have to go," said the corpsman as he and another strapped Junkei down so he wouldn't roll around during the trip back.

"Jā… sayonara," said Junkei. 5th squad waved good-bye to Pvt. Tsutsui Junkei to an unknown fate.

By evening Major Nara was sorting through his debriefing notes. There were a dozen casualties reported. Three of them were KIA. Nara would probably need replacements, but the wounded and dead were spread out across several different platoons and some didn't even report casualties. At worst they had wounded that weren't worth reporting like minor cuts.

His weapons company had been particularly useful. The weapon's company had two rifle platoons, a heavy machine gun platoon, a mortar platoon, and an anti-tank platoon. That added up to four M2 .50 caliber machine guns, four L16 81 mm mortars, two Type 89 laser-guided anti-tank missile launchers, and two platoons of infantry to support and protect the weapons' crews. While his anti-tank crews hadn't been useful the HMGs and mortars had been devastating on the JNA infantry.

"They didn't expect us to put up a fight," said Nara to himself as he wrote in a notebook. "Once they engaged us they were at a lost for what to do. Three waves cut to shreds. The fourth wave put up a fight."

The fourth wave hadn't come charging or walking across open ground. They used cover and fire-and-maneuver tactics. His soldiers were better armed. It reminded him of the [North] Korean People's Army. They were armed with badly outdated Soviet equipment mostly from the 1960s, but their numbers and tenacity made them a vicious enemy. Still, it wasn't like fighting the People's Liberation Army who had both numbers and mostly up-to-date equipment. China was still behind Japan, thought Nara with satisfaction.

"Jugoslavenska Narodna Armija (Yugoslav People's Army)," said Nara out loud. "What is with you Communist and calling using 'people's army'?"

Nara knew relatively little about Communism aside from the basics like it was a classless society, everyone was supposedly the same, everyone supposedly got the same, there was no private property, the state owned everything, and there was no individual. To him, Communism sounded one step away from a dictatorship. In truth, Communism was far more complex, but in practice was not too different from what Nara's simplification. Nara's simplified version view however did not reflect the ironies. Nara just decided that Communism was bad like most Japanese, Americans, British, French, and Germans. This was the effect of being on the Americans' side of the Cold War.

"Coffee, Major?" offered Nara's First Sergeant.

"Onegaishimasu (please)," said Nara.

"Problems, sir?"

"Just thinking. Well, when we deploy we'll have a lot of support."

* * *

**1152 Hours; April 28****th****, 2012; Hellenic-Albanian Border, Pindus Mountains; Epirus Periphery, Hellenic Republic**

The Yugoslav corporal had spent the past three hours crawling since the sun set. He was shaking from stress. He was crawling past the remains of his battalion. He couldn't believe what had become of his comrades.

He was afraid to make noise and knew the Japanese had snipers. He would pause periodically to make sure he wasn't being watched. The corporal froze thinking he heard a twig snap. Nothing. The corporal started to move again. He could see some shrubs he could disappear into. Once there he could make a run for his lines.

**Click**

"Yamatte kudasai (please stop)," said a voice. It spoke in a polite foreign language, but the message was clear, especially with the distinctive sound of a pistol hammer being cocked. The corporal slowly removed his helmet and spread out his arms and legs. He felt hands patting him down. All his weapons were cast aside and someone grabbed him by the back of his collar to pull him to his knees.

In front of him was a large man holding a large automatic rifle. It wasn't aimed at the Yugoslav corporal, but he suspected it wouldn't take long for the man to raise the barrel to his eye level and blast his head off. The corporal thought the Japanese were supposed to be tiny people, but this guy was built like an M84 tank. There was a woman going through the contents of his pack.

"I can't read any of this. It's all in Serbian or Croatian," said the woman in Japanese.

"We'll take it to Battalion," said an athletic looking man. He seemed to be in charge thought the corporal. By his the corporal guessed he was looking at the Japanese sergeant or a junior officer. "Him too."

"Oi, iku (Hey, move). Hayaku (Now)!" barked another large muscular looking man with an H&K USP 45. "Let's go. The war's over for you."

* * *

**0700 Hours; December 18****th****, 1947; Kassel Iron Works, Munich; Bavarian State, Federal Republic of Germany**

One of the nice things about factories that were for producing heavy materials and machinery was that they had tools and equipment that could be turned to servicing tanks.

"Wagner! Feldwebel (Sergeant) O'Keith needs help fixing the breech on that panzer!" shouted Lt. Pryce.

"Jawohl, Herr Leutnant!" responded Gefreiter (Private) Jonah Wagner, one of the German soldiers Pryce had grabbed to help crew what was left of his company.

"Morn', Leftenant," said Cleasby. "Bit nippy today, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess it is," agreed Pryce. "Good thing we got the Shermans inside."

"Indeed."

"Regiment says they've got a hold of reinforcements. Even a company of tanks," said Pryce.

"Where the bloody hell have they been?" practically demanded Cleasby.

"Italy. Part of the 1st Armored Division. They've been waiting for a Yugoslavian attack across the Italian-Yugoslav border, but General Bradley has finally decided our need is greater."

"I jus' don't get it," said Sergeant O'Keith walking up to Pryce. "Jerry has bunch of bloody tank divisions. Ain't Monty or Brad thought that those could be useful."

"Too right, Leftenant. They got bloomin' Tigers! We're getting killed by the Sov's T-34s and the Huns have enough panzers to take Western Europe!" said Cleasby.

"I think that was the idea when they built all of them," said Pryce wryly thinking about the legions of Panzer IIIs, Panzer IVs, Panzer V Panthers, Panzer VI Tiger Is, and the Panzer VI Tiger II, known as the Königstiger (Bengal Tiger) or King Tiger. That was only the tanks, there were still the halftracks, armored cars, tank destroyers, self-propelled artillery, and artillery the Germans built. Wehrmacht had been an awesome and powerful military. The Bundeswehr was only stopped by lack of fuel from being the deadliest land force in Central Europe. The British being the deadliest in Western Europe, the Soviets being the deadliest in Eastern Europe, and the United States being the deadliest in North America.

"Oh bloody hell," cursed Cleasby. "I hope His Majesty realizes how important Germany and these wankers are to the safety of England."

Although the British would say for 'Queen and Country', there was still a king in 1947 and had been since the death of Queen Victoria in 1901. King George VI would reign until his death in 1952. Queen Elizabeth II was officially crowned Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland on June 2, 1953. Although George was king at this time, the British adored Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, also known lovingly as the Queen Mother.

"I'm sure the proud sons and daughters of the Fatherland will appreciate being called 'wankers'," said Pryce.

In the distance they heard the cry of a steam engine whistle. Trains had been delivering supplies to Munich since the start of the war. The mainline ran from the port of Antwerp, Belgium through the Ardennes Forrest into Germany until it reached the city of Dusseldorf in the Ruhr Valley and the German industrial heartland. The trains then proceeded south along the Rhine River until it reached the junction at Karlsruhe and turned east passing through Stuttgart, where a major US Army base was being built, Ulm, Augsburg, and finally Munich. Alternatively, trains could go north towards Hamburg.

Most of the German troops were being kept on bases, military camps, and barracks along the Rhine Valley. The main southern force was kept Mannheim and Stuttgart, but now the Germans were transferring soldiers to Bavaria.

The whistle they heard was the first of several trains that were moving roughly 20,000 soldiers into the city.

"These children are being sent to defend the Vatarland," spat Wagner.

"Johan, you are not so old yourself," chided Stabsgefreiter Peter Bohmer. "You were only there for the last five months of the war. Not like me and Friedrich."

Stabsgefreiter Friedrich Tillich nodded as he pulled out a pipe and lit it. Both he and Bohmer had joined the Heer (Army) and had fought in Normandy. They in one of the few units that escaped the Falaise Pocket.

"Ja, but at least I saw some of the war. These are children who were probably just sucking on their mothers' breasts and now they are all that stands between the Kommunisten and the Frei Europa (Free Europe), nein the Freiwelt (Free World)."

"Ja, ja, we know that, Johan. Now I believe that Tommy needs your help. It would be good if that panzer's breech doesn't kill us when we fight Iwan (Ivan). Also, Johan, it would be good for you to remember that we are running out of options. We use these children or else we will be fighting on French solid and then English," said Bohmer. "Now, Go. Gun breech. Fix. Schnell. Or else the Luetnant will get mad. Ami or Deutsche, he is still an offizer (officer). Gehen (Go)."

"Jawohl!"

Mauhauser was at the main station in Munich. She had been collecting food with another German soldier Pryce had taken to help crew the tanks.

"I have eggs Frau Oberstabsgefreiter," said Obergefreiter (6).

"Sehr gute," said Mauhauser. They loaded into a box they had full of other things including sausage, spam, potatoes, more spam, something in a can that neither German could read, and spam.

A large black and red DRG Class 42 steam engine pulled into the station in a veil of smoke and steam. The Class 42 was one of three principle freight engines built during World War II. It came to a halt at the end of the platform pulling a line of the familiar Donnerbüchse (Thunderbox) passenger cars (7). German MPs were waiting on the platform with MP40s in hand. Looking above them, Mauhauser could see riflemen. An oberst (colonel) was waiting for the soldiers as they detrained. Officers were marching up and down the platform barking orders at the recruits who'd just completed their training and were now expected to fight the Red Army.

"Guten morgen, truppen (good morning, troops)! Willkommen im München (welcome to Munich)! Here you will fight for the freedom of your follow Germans. There will be no retreat from this city!" said the Oberst.

Mauhauser looked almost pityingly at the young men and women whose eyes sparkled at the words of the oberst. As they marched out of the station the soldiers began to sing:

_Alte Kameraden auf dem Marsch durchs Land  
Schließen Freundschaft Felsenfest und treu.  
Ob in Not oder in Gefahr, stets zusammen  
Halten sie aufs neu'._

Zur Attacke geht es Schlag und Schlag,  
Ruhm und Ehr' soll bringen uns der Sieg.  
Los, Kameraden, frisch wird geladen,  
Das ist unsre Marschmusik.

_La, la, la, la, la, la, la._

Lachen scherzen, lachen scherzen, heute ist ja heut'  
Morgen ist das ganze Regiment wer weiß wie weit.  
Das, Kameraden, ist des Kriegers bitt'res Los,  
Darum nehmt das Glas zur Hand und wir sagen "Prost".  
Alter Wein gibt Mut und Kraft;  
Denn es schmeckt des Weines Lebenssaft.  
Sind wir alt, das Herz bleibt jung  
Und gewaltig die Erinnerung.

Ob in Freude, ob in Not,  
Bleiben wir getreu bis in den Tod.  
Trinket aus und schenket ein  
Und laßt uns alte Kameraden sein.

It was funny to Mauhauser that these new recruits who had neither seen the war in the West or East were singing 'Old Comrades'. A large DRG Class 52, the most common freight steam locomotive in Germany, pulled into the station. It was hauling freight cars. Mauhauser noticed the many flat cars draped with camouflage tarps. It was very obvious from the ground that artillery was under the tarps, but if the train was standing still then from the air it would be much hard to see them. The tarps would also offer protection from the elements while the train travelled the 190 kilometers from Stuttgart.

She could see there were a lot of anti-tank guns, mostly the Pak 38s and Pak 40s (8). There were also many of the feared Flak 36s, the most common version of the infamous 88 mm anti-air guns. It was obvious they were expecting to fight large numbers of Soviet tanks. The Germans couldn't use their tanks and had settled for artillery.

Mauhauser and the Obergefreiter loaded the supplies into a jeep they had barrowed.

They followed the tracks to the iron works where Pryce's platoon was working. They saw another train approaching. This was another 52 Class engine. The freight car behind the engine was a flat car with a Bofor 40 mm anti-air gun and then a string of flat cars with American Sherman tanks. This train had been racing nearly flat out since it left Italy to bring in a company of tanks and tank destroyers. This train would be followed by additional troops from Stuttgart and American GIs being pulled out of France.

They arrived back at the factory.

"Is tha' breakfast?" asked one of the Englishmen.

"It's about fuckin' time," said another. "Oi, boy'o give me a hand h're and help me cook some eggs."

"Aye, s'r."

"You get eggs?" Pryce asked Mauhauser.

"Ja, we found some," said Mauhauser.

Patted her on the shoulder, "Danke, Kate."

"Bitte sehr," she said. "The first of the 108th Infantry Division is arriving at the station."

"Gute (good). We need all the help we can get."

"They're children."

"And how old are you again?" asked Pryce with a smirk.

Mauhauser scowled and said, "I've had combat experience. These are children from the Rhineland. They've never seen the Soviets."

"Kate, I drove through the Rhineland. They saw Uncle Sam plow through the Wehrmacht and I think all of Deutschland saw our B-17s."

"We're learning to forgive you Amis for that," said Mauhauser. She was half-joking. She didn't blame Pryce for bombing Germany into oblivion, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to forgive the USAAF and RAF. Most of the damage to Munich was caused by them, not the Red Air Force. In truth, billions of dollars of damage was done to Western Europe by the Allied bombing campaigns and even by the 1970s there was still obvious signs of the war.

"Just remember, you were them once too and so was I and these Brits. How is the English coming?" asked Pryce. "Are you well today?"

"Err, ja, ist good," she answered still speaking with some German words.

'Where was the pronoun in that sentence?' wondered Pryce. 'When did I start using words like pronoun? Shit, Mrs. Callahan was wrong, she did teach me something.'

"I am good," corrected Pryce. "Our languages aren't too different Kate. You need to mention yourself and say 'I'."

"Jawohl, Eli," said Mauhauser rolling her eyes.

"You wanted to learn English and we don't have much else to do until the Soviets go on the move again."

They all wondered when that would be.

* * *

**0845 Hours; December 18****th****, 1947; Soviet Armed Forces Western HQ, Berlin; Berlin Administrative State, German Democratic Republic**

Marshal of the Soviet Union Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov stood at a sandtable as junior officers and warrant officers plotted the position of Soviet and NATO troops. He 50 years old and mostly bald. On his collar was a red patch with five gold star indicating him supreme commander of the Armed Forces… under Glorious Comrade General-Secretary Iosif (9) Vissarionovich Stalin. Zhukov is the true winner of the war on the Eastern Front, but he was smart enough to give all the credit to Stalin and never suggest otherwise. Still his uniform was covered in so many medals that there were jokes that Marshal Zhukov had to exercise to have enough strength to stand with the weight of all of them. Amongst these medals included the highest award, Hero of the Soviet Union. There were two of these gold star medals hanging from a red ribbon. 10 years later Zhukov would have four of these medals. Zhukov would be only one of two men to get four Hero of the Soviet Unions.

"Comrade Marsha, report from Comrade General Filitov," said a major.

Zhukov took the paper without a word. "Possible NATO counter-attack. It is unknown if they have the strength left to stage a successful one. All is quiet on our front at this moment. I don't not like this silence. My supply lines are being sabotaged by counter-revolutionaries."

Zhukov crumpled up the message. It didn't matter.

The Americans were like the Germans and yet different. They weren't as vicious as the Germans had been, but also not as clever in Zhukov's eyes. The French were a joke and the British were exhausted. The Imperialists' tanks could not stand up to the might Soviet tanks, but…

This was where the Americans were dangerous enemies. Their officers were not always clever, but their enlisted could be resourceful and creative. Zhukov had learnt that regiments and divisions could be predicable, but not a smaller force. When backed into corners the Americans resorted to anything they could conceive.

The northern and southern fronts were becoming stagnated. Zhukov needed a decisive victory to end it all, but unbeknownst to NATO and many of his own officers the Soviets were exhausted their own resources. The Spring would come and then they would lose the war. With good weather the Mustangs and Spitfires were swept the skies of MiGs and Yaks. Then their bombers would come and rain death upon the Red Army. Also the Americans could by that time put their navy to use. Zhukov was seriously concerned that the Imperialists could be training the Japanese to invade Eastern Russia. He could only hope their new supposed allies in China could tie up any Capitalist threats in the Far East.

He wondered what his old friends Montgomery and Bradley were thinking. Probably wondering how to win the war. Zhukov couldn't see how to break NATO in the north at Hamburg without committing too many troops. No, it had to be in the south at Munich where the Imperialists were weakest. He didn't have infinite troops and tanks and he was wondering how long the Rodina could keep up the supplies of munitions. The amount of Katyusha rockets his troops were expending was overwhelming their supply lines. MGB (Ministerstvo Gosudarstvennoi Bezopasnosti), or Ministry for State Security and one of the forerunners of the KGB, was cracking down hard in Poland. The Poles were not satisfied with the terms of their liberation and some were fighting an active resistance against their occupiers. They were doing the same in East Germany, but Zhukov couldn't help but notice that the MGB was inciting more violent reactions in both countries. He would never openly criticize MGB in case their strategy was Stalin's idea, but he would have to contend with an increasingly hostile populace.

He also had to contend with his own people. Moscow was getting edgy. He needed to achieve a breakout before the Politburo started dictating his plans for him. He sighed. It was the 'people's army' and the Politburo was the 'people'. That important thing to understand was that the Politburo served the people. It's just that the people were basically Stalin.

He looked over the chart on the table. The 1st Army was pretty much engaged with the Americans, British, and French in Hamburg. The Germans in the center of the country made it impossible to advance as the Germans would wait at chokepoints in the mountains, thick forests, and river crossings. The south was not very appealing since it got increasingly mountainous as you travelled further west.

"Yuri, tell Comrade Filitov that I need that breakout as soon as possible," ordered Marshal Zhukov.

"Da, Comrade Marshal!"

Zhukov returned to his office and poured himself a glass of 80-proof vodka. "The 1st Army and the 1st Guards Army are heavily engaged on the northern front. The 3rd Shock Army has pretty much exhausted themselves. The 13th Army is still in reserve in the Ukraine. Comrade General Palin has spread the 2nd Army across central and southern Germany… the poor bastard," thought Zhukov outloud.

He thought about the positions the 2nd Red Banner Army under Colonel General Igor Mikhailovich Palin. Palin's troops were in chaos because the senior officials in Moscow had recalled him for political reasons. In other words Stalin and Molotov wanted to show Palin off to the Soviet people and give a big show of awarding him the gold star of the Hero of the Soviet Union. Palin had insisted that he should stay at his headquarters in Prague, Czechoslovakia.

"And it just before achieved a breakout at Nurnberg," he groaned. Nurnberg was a major crossroad city and it would have allowed the Soviets a chance to outflank Munich and possibly capture the cities of Stuttgart and Frankfurt.

"So, Filitov's corps will have to do it…" he thought aloud as he plotted on his own private set of charts. Zhukov looked over photos taken by GRU agents and aerial reconnaissance last month. There were twelve divisions of German tanks without fuel between Munich and Stuttgart. His worst fear was that the Americans would realize the power sitting dormant. It would turn the course of the war in the favor of the Capitalists if they did.

"Stay dumb Comrades," Marshal Zhukov said to himself.

* * *

Appendix

1. Atashi is the feminine way of saying 'I'.

2. The Japanese actually say 'don't mind' in situations like this. It's an example of English phrases the Japanese use in pop-culture.

3. Hachiman is the God of War and the divine protector of Japan and the Japanese people. Interestingly enough, Hachiman-shin started out originally as a god of agriculture. He was later worshipped by the Minamoto Clan, one of the first samurai clans, and started to be transformed during the first shogunate as the god of war.

4. The old RGD-5 fragmentation grenade was the standard grenade of the Soviet Army post-World War II and is still used by a number of countries today. Russia still makes them, but export them to other countries. In 2005 President George W Bush was almost killed by one while giving a speech.

5. The RPK and M72 are essentially longer versions of an assault rifle. They are classified as light machine guns, but serve the role as an automatic rifle. The M249 SAW serves the same role in the US Army and US Marine Corps. These guns have the capacity of a machine gun, but the cartridges they fire give them the general effectiveness of an assault rifle. Light machine guns like the M60, M240, and the PK, sometimes called medium machine guns, prove to be more effective in the machine gun role because of the larger cartridge, but the LMGs are much more mobile and better suited for urban warfare and light infantry units.

6. Obergefreiter is an OR3, the rough equivalent a US Army Private First Class or a USMC Lance Corporal. Mauhauser is a Oberstabsgefreiter, an OR4, which is technically the equivalent of a Sergeant, but in the German military it's really a senior corporal. Feldwebel (OR6) is the really the German equivalent of Sergeant.

7. The Thunderbox is a rather distinctive looking passenger railcar that some of you probably would recognize if you saw a picture. Over 8,200 of them were built between 1921-1931. The Germans he built these with the intention of them as passenger cars, but also as troop transports.

8. Panzerabwehrkanone (Pak) 38 is a 50 mm anti-tank gun and the Pak 40 is a 75 mm anti-tank gun. They were make up the principle anti-tank canons of the Wehrmacht. It should be noted that Pak designates an anti-tank gun Panzer (tank) abwehr (defense) kanone (canon) and number that follows is the year of introduction into military service. The Pak 38 is a small, but deadly gun that fires a small shell that could puncture thick armor and kill the crew on the inside of a tank, but proved less effective against heavy tanks like the JS-3 and the KV-1 and the T-34, but it was one of the few that could take the Soviet tanks. Due to their size they were excellent for ambushes. The Pak 40 was a 75 mm AT gun that used the same 75 mm gun as the Panzer IVs. The Pak 40 was introduced to combat the KV-1 and other Soviet heavy tanks that the Pak 38 couldn't destroy. The Pak 38 had a crew of 5 and a range of 1,000 yards (depending on the type of shell used). The Pak 40 also had a crew of 5 and range of 1,968 yard.

9. Iosif is the direct translation for Joseph from its Russian Cyrillic spelling. Sometimes it's spelt Iosef.


	17. Chapter 17: Operation Starburn

Okay… what is this 17? Yeah, 17. Okay I'm so tired. Working… with a chainsaw and weed whacker… mmm, I still need to learn to drive the tractor.

This is… err, kinda' embarrassing, but the last chapter I'm sure a number of you might have noticed wasn't really finished. I got stuck in the flashback and kept on writing past it with the intention of finishing it later. Uh, sorry about that. Another things I my to do list.

I don't own any trademark or copywritten material. Please leave a review.

* * *

**Chapter 17: Operation: Starburn**

"Clever men are impressed in their differences from their fellows. Wise men are conscious of their resemblance to them."

Richard Henry Tawney; Professor of Economic History, Writer, World War I Veteran

**0700 Hours; April 30****th****, 2012; Greek-Albanian Border, Pindus Mountains; Epirus Periphery, Hellenic Republic**

A Type 90 heavy tank rolled across the border followed by a second. A group of Type 89 infantry fighting vehicles and Type 96 armored personnel carriers (1) followed the tanks up the road towards the Yugoslavian lines. This was only 2nd Platoon. There was eight other platoons advancing up this section.

There was no artillery barrage to open the operation. The Japanese didn't want to give the JNA any warning. However, there were numerous battery companies zeroed in on suspected positions of the JNA Ground Forces.

Kenji was sitting inside one of the Type 96s with his rifle between his legs. His stomach was churning a little. He was riding off into battle again. One of the problems of riding inside an APC or IFV was that you couldn't see outside and the passengers inside didn't always know what was outside. The obvious advantage was that all small arms short of an RPG couldn't do any damage.

"Oi, we're officially in Albania!" called the gunner from his position.

Kenji heard something clang against the side of the APC. He knew it was a bullet ricocheting off the Type 96. Then Kenji heard the distinctive sound of a machine gun bolt being slid back to the open position (2). The gunner started to return fire with the large and powerful .50 caliber round. Kenji knew without looking outside that there would be thousands of small white muzzle flashes and green tracers zooming at the Japanese. The Yugoslavians were too far away from Kenji to be able to hear them shooting over the engine noises, but there was no mistaking the heavy thud of the Type 89s' 35 mm auto-cannon.

"The tanks aren't shooting back yet," said Haruki.

"Probably saving ammo," said Kazu.

The ground shook behind the vehicles.

"Mortars or artillery?" asked Fiona.

There was a closer explosion.

"Arty," nearly all of them said in unison.

"105s probably," said Kenji. "They don't sound like 155s."

The conversation was slow. They didn't really know what to say, but no one wanted to be left with silence that was punctuated by artillery and small arms fire.

"Feels like we're going uphill," said Renji.

"So ne," agreed Ichigo.

Outside the Yugoslav soldiers were breaking ranks and retreating. They had held when the 105 mm shells started landing on their trenches and pillboxes. High explosives didn't have much effect on them and shrapnel did minimal damage unless it exploded over a trench. Then the Japanese started dropping incendiary rounds on them. Fire poured into the trenches burning soldiers alive and forced the others into the open where they were cut to pieces by shrapnel. Incendiary shells struck the bunkers and pillboxes. It made it unbearable inside or worse, if the shell exploded inside it would suck out all the oxygen suffocating everyone inside.

They abandoned their positions and ran. They hardly even seem to care that there was a battalion advancing on them.

The Japanese pushed through the other line of defenses and advanced on the primary line of trenches and bunkers.

"We're at our first objective," announced the driver to his passengers over an intercom. "Standby for ramp to drop."

There was a hydraulic whirring at the rear ramp lowered to allow them to deploy. Haruki raised his rifle to his shoulder and exited keeping low. Kenji followed him. Haruki appeared around the side of the APC with Type 89 assault rifle. Kenji stood at his shoulder with his M14 raised towards the sky. On the other side of the APC was Ikuro Miho doing the same thing.

There was the chatter of rifles and machine guns, but Haruki couldn't see its source through smoke and mist of the early morning. There was a road and on either side were hills. The JNA seemed to have some trenches on it and sandbag bunkers. There was some razor-wire and steel tank blocks on the road ahead.

"5th Squad, this is Echo 4-0, seize the lower enemy defenses on our right and push to the top, how copy?" ordered Lt. Urashima.

"Solid copy, we are Oscar Mike, out," responded Hiroyoshi. He turned and yelled up to gunner on the Type 96 he'd been riding in, "We need cover fire!"

"Wakarimashita (I understand)!" he shouted back.

Hiroyoshi waved to Haruki to follow him. Hiroyoshi moved as fast as he could go in his low crouch. He could see trenches at the base of the hill and that they were part of a network that lead to the top of the hill. As he moved he wondered how to get across the razor wire fence in his way.

"You don't suppose there's a minefield?" asked Kazu.

"That's a pleasant thought," said Kenji sarcastically.

"Who has wire cutters?" shouted Hiroyoshi.

"I do, sir," shouted Mori. She frowned though. Razor wire was oddly tensioned. Barred wire pretty simple to cut, but razor wire could whip around in odd directions when cut. There was a risk it could strike her in the face when she cut it. This was why should had to have help. Kenji and Renji held the wire while she used a pair of bolt cutters.

"Clear!"

Hiroyoshi looked ahead. They were in the prone position behind a low mound in the ground. It protected them the lower trenches, but if someone above decided to join in they were screwed. They'd have to traverse 30 meters to the trenches. There were a couple of rocks big enough for one or two people to hide behind between them.

"Hanai, Harima, you just volunteered," said Hiroyoshi.

"For what?" shouted Kenji and Haruki.

"See those rocks? Get to them and lob a few grenades over."

"Why us?" demanded Haruki.

"Because you guys do these stupid things anyways!"

"He has a point," said Kazu in a reasonable tone.

"Shit," cursed Kenji. He removed his pack and set down his SMAW to make himself as light as possible. Haruki did the same.

"On my mark. Ichi, ni, san, ima (1, 2, 3, now)!"

Kenji ran as fast as he could. He knew without looking that Haruki had the same distorted look on his face from when they ran the relay race in their second hear of high school. They slid into the rocks. Kenji felt his shoulder to make sure he hadn't hurt it from crashing into the rock. He then checked his body for bullet holes. Adrenalin would prevent him from feeling wounds until it wore off.

Kenji yanked an M67 that was strapped to the shoulder of his vest. He looked over at Haruki who also held the fragmentation grenade. Kenji felt it with his thumb. It only weighed 400 grams (14 oz) and only was 64 mm (2.5 in) wide. So small but it could kill everything within 5 m of the explosion and seriously wound anyone within 15 m. So small, but deadly. Then again Kenji thought as he pulled the pin, the gun he had fired bullets that were only 7.62 mm wide and 51 mm long. He threw the grenade over the top of the rock and it landed on the edge of the trench and then rolled inside.

"Grenade!" shouted a man in Serbian.

"Run!" shouted another.

The grenades exploded kicking up dirt and small pebbles, some of which showered down on Kenji and Haruki. Kenji and Haruki turned and ran into the trenches screaming with bayonets mounted. They dived in back to back breathing hard.

"Clear?" asked Haruki breathlessly.

"Hai, so da to omou (Yes, I think)," said Kenji moving his head side to side scanning for movement.

The rest of 5th Squad quickly followed. Like Kenji and Haruki many of them had their bayonets mounted, or the ones who had guns that could. Renji's and Miho's rifles had grenade launchers that prevented the mounting of a bayonet. Kazu's M60 like nearly all machine guns didn't have a bayonet mount. Miho and Kazu handed Kenji and Haruki the equipment they left behind.

"Jā, squad to me. Here we go," ordered Hiroyoshi. They went down the trench to a trench that led to the upper ones. There were two above them. One was on the side of the hill and the other was at the top. There were three little bunkers in the middle trench. They didn't have a roof though other than a camouflage top. Riflemen were shooting out of them. On top there were two larger sandbag bunkers. These had sandbags on the roof and machine guns firing out. There was a third one, but one of the tanks had destroyed it. Hiroyoshi saw that the connecting trench zigzagged so someone going down it would be exposed.

Hiroyoshi flicked the selector to full-auto and proceeded up to the second trench. Behind him was 5th Squad following him in a single-file line with the ones in front pointing their weapons ahead, the ones in the middle training their weapons up the hill, and the ones in the rear making sure they weren't going to be attacked from behind.

Kenji fired random shots up at the second trench when he saw heads appear over the parapet. Someone hurled a grenade down at them showering them with dirt, but it didn't connect with anyone.

Hiroyoshi rounded a corner and then saw a man fumbling with a rifle. He saw the Japanese staff sergeant. The Croatian man abandoned his M70 and pulled out his knife. Hiroyoshi was stunned by this bold, but highly stupid act. He depressed on the trigger and four round burst from his Type 89, two of which struck the soldier.

The Croatian gasped for breath. He was on his back. He knew he was dying as blood pumped from his chest. He started to pray as he saw the sun blocked out by a man standing over him, a cold bayonet leveled at his throat.

Hiroyoshi thought that the words the man was saying sounded familiar. Then he realized it was Latin. He was calling to his God, the Christian God. He heard this at Sarah's church. Croatia before the Communist had been a Catholic country. Yugoslavia tolerated religion to an extent, but Catholics were discriminated against. The Serbian Orthodox Church was the most tolerated and Islam and Judaism were the least.

He wished he could say something, but he couldn't remember any of the things that Sarah and the others at her church said as the life faded from the eyes. Misty brown eyes stared blankly at the blue sky, but Hiroyoshi was already moving on. He'd seen death enough times that he wasn't going to let it affect him much. A man leaped out from a MG nest in the trench. Hiroyoshi hardly thought, but reacted and thrust his bayonet into him. The man gasped in a mix of shock and an inability to breathe properly before a bullet struck him in the head fired by Yamako Ichiro.

* * *

**1500 Hours; April 30****th****, 2012; Yagami Junior High School, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan**

**Eastern European Standard Time (UCT+2): 0800 Hours; April 30****th****, 2012**

Mai closed her textbooks as her last class ended. Her friends gathered around her desk talking about plans for after school. Sachi wanted to go to a new bakery downtown and Seo visit some shops. Mio and Lee just sat quietly next to the group. Min Ho Lee wasn't in their class, but she did come to eat lunch with Sang-jin Seo and Mai and had come to be inducted into Mai's little group of friends.

"What are they looking at?" asked Mio seeing a group of boys in the corner gathered around someone.

"Saa, waka nai (Hmm, I don't know)," said Sachi. "Probably something perverted."

"At least Shuuji and Kosuke-kun aren't involved," said Mai seeing her brother and his best friend sitting at Kosuke's desk and playing some kind of card involving Dojibiron, Kosuke's favorite TV show. In many ways Kosuke was still a little kid with little kid interests, but he was quite mature.

"Since when did you start calling Ichijō-kun by his first name?" asked Sachi with a grin.

"Eh?" said Mai perplexed. "Oboete inai (I don't remember)."

"Damn look at her!" one of the boys in the corner exclaimed.

"Shh! Baka!" said another smacking him upside the head.

Sachi stood up. "Come on, let's see what they're doing.'

"Is that a good idea?" asked Lee a little nervously. She'd over heard some of those boys talking about the war and what they'd have done to a North Korean. She was worried that someone would identify her as a Northerner. Seo and Mai insisted that they would understand since she was born in Kaesŏng which was now part of the South and naturally there would be former North Koreans abroad.

"Come on, Lee-chan," said Mio dragging her along.

"Nani?" asked Kosuke seeing the girls mobilizing in force.

"Leave it alone," said Shuuji.

"Doesn't Mai-chan know karate or something?" asked Kosuke.

"Tae Kwon-do," corrected Shuuji. "It's what they practice in Korea. She said it's mostly a kicking art and I doubt she'd do that in a skirt. And it's your move."

"Oi! Kore nani (what's this)?" demanded Sachi.

"Shinhachi-chan," sighed Shuuji. "She's as bad as Aniki (big brother) sometimes."

"It's nothing, just a magazine!" defended one of the boys. "It's porn."

"Yeah, it's just one of those idol magazines!" said another.

"Ee, try that defense and see where it will get you," said Kosuke drawing a card. "Jā, this does 10+ damage so those cards go to the graveyard and you take 2 damage."

"Besides, it patriotic. See these girls are doing this in support of our soldiers going abroad!"

"Dressing up in cut-off camouflage pants and a sports bra that's more bra than sport holding an assault rifle and standing in front of a tank is hardly patriotic!" shouted Seo learning on her cane for support.

"I play this upgrade which powers up this guy and I attack with him doing 8 damage. Combined with this card I take out these two and you still full damage," said Shuuji. "Sounds like it's going well."

"No punches being thrown… yet," said Kosuke. He glanced nervously at Mai. Kosuke knew Mai could hold her own, but that Seo had that handicap and Lee looked like she'd been sick most of her life. He had no idea if Sachi knew any material arts. She'd spent a lot of time in America and she mentioned some cousins in the military.

"You just wish you had boobs like this!" laughed one of the boys.

"That's a bad move," groaned Shuuji.

**Smack**

Sachi smacked him across the face. He pushed her which knocked Sachi into Seo which caused Seo to fall to the floor.

"Seo! Are you okay?" asked Lee.

"Speak Japanese you freak!"

"Manjiji masipsio (don't touch me)!" shouted Lee instinctively.

"AHH!" screamed the boy as Mai ball of her foot (3) into his face.

"Bitch!"

"Oi! Watch who you're calling a bitch!" roared Shuuji jumping to his feet and looking dangerously at them. Kosuke stood more calmly, but looked no else pissed or threatening than his friend. Most people knew Shuuji's brother's reputation and that Shuuji was also accomplished martial artist. Kosuke was known to be good at foot ball (soccer) and a sister who taught him professional wrestling.

"Apologize," ordered Kosuke. "Start with Shinhachi-chan for pushing her and then Sang-jin-chan for knocking her over. Then Min Ho-chan for calling her a freak."

"You and what army?" asked the boy. "And I suppose you want me to forget what color panties your sister wears too?"

Half an hour later Shuuji and Kosuke were waiting for their parents outside the teachers' office.

"Gomennasai," apologized Sachi again.

"Ieie," said Shuuji waving his hand dismissively. "They were asking for it."

"Well I want to thank you both," said Mai.

"Oi, we're family, baka," said Shuuji.

"And a good friend," added Kosuke.

Mai smiled and hugged them both.

"Kosuke!" shouted a large and muscular woman walking up the hall. "I get a call in the middle of discussing my next match with my manager and I get a call that you got into a fight at school!"

"Gomennasai, Oka-san," mumbled Kosuke.

She looked at the teacher who'd escorted her who promptly left. She checked to make sure he was gone and then asked, "Did you win?"

"Hai, Oka-san," answered Kosuke.

"Taught them a thing or two about respecting women?"

"And Koreans," answered Kosuke.

Kosuke's mother checked to make sure there was no staff around. Then she patted him on the head and said, "Good boy. Now let's go home, but act like you're in big trouble."

"Hai," he said. He turned and waved to the others. "Mata (later)."

The principle stuck his head out the door and looked at Shuuji. "You're mother called. You can go home now. There will be no future problems or mention of this incident."

"Hai," said Shuuji standing up. Having a rich and powerful mother didn't hurt sometimes. "I think I'll get my bag and go home. See you tomorrow mina (everyone)."

Shuuji entered his classroom and someone bounced off him and fell to the floor.

"Eh? Min Ho-chan, daijōbu?" asked Shuuji a little alarmed to see the undersized Korean girl. She was holding a leather case with a brass clasp. On the bag was the name 'Harima Shuuji'.

"Eto, I-I… dozo (here)," she said holding the bag out. "I wanted to thank you so I thought I would get your bag for you."

Shuuji smiled. "Domo."

"I know you were protecting Mai-chan, but it was nice what you and Ichijō-kun said about Koreans," she said.

Shuuji sighed and sat on the floor in front of her. "I really didn't get to know Mai-chan until recently. Aniki brought her to Nihon from Korea. I'm sure it was hard for her here, but we couldn't see her home alone. She was a stray and in a way the Harima Clan has always been like that. We've been strays and outcasts. It must have been hard losing her family and Sang-jin-chan too. I can't imagine what you've been through."

"Eh, h-h-hai," she agreed nervously. She was shaking now and hugging her knees.

"Well, I need to go. I'll see you later. Mata," said Shuuji helping Lee to her feet.

"Eto, hai, mata," she said vaguely. Shuuji was different from the other boys. He seemed nicer than most. Most of the bullies in the school were afraid of him. He wasn't exactly a friend of the otaku either, but he didn't pick on them either. Shuuji had a strong sense of justice and pride. Nearly all the Harima Clan was like that especially his brother Kenji.

Shuuji seemed to have settled into a spot in the school social order and not care what others really thought of him. Lee wondered what he would do if he ever found out she was born in the country that had started the war.

* * *

**0843 Hours; April 30****th****, 2012; 5 km north of the Greek Border, Sarandë District; Vlorë County, Republic of Albania**

The Japanese Army had pretty much shattered the JNA defenses. Entire regiments were in full retreat to their secondary defenses. They were increasingly concerned about being able to hold off their enemy. The Japanese had proven to be unexpectedly good at mountain warfare. The Yugoslavians had not anticipated Japanese veterans who had fought across the mountains of their own country and the Korean Peninsula.

The situation wasn't improving either. They had dug in their defenses in a farmer's field. Their tanks were covered with a camouflage net and hay to help it blend in.

They scrambled for cover when they saw helicopters in the distance. Eight AH-64DJ Apache Longbows were flying around like scavenging birds of prey looking for the retreating Yugoslavians that the fighter-bombers had missed.

The Apache wasn't as well armored as the Krokodil, known as the Hind by NATO, and were easier to shoot down… if it came in range of AAAs. The Apache was one of the deadliest killers in the sky and they rarely missed. The Hinds would spray overwhelming amounts of rockets. The Apache just needed one shot to kill a target and with the support helicopter like the Kiowa Warrior the Apache didn't even have to be in visual range.

Suddenly there was a narrow beam of red light. The wind had picked up dust and hay dust which would scatter the otherwise invisible light beams of a laser range finder. They braced themselves for the inevitable. They saw a cloud of smoke appear from the speck that was a Japanese clone of the American Apache Longbow (4). A Maverick anti-tank missile screeched into an M-84. JNA soldiers groan seeing their camouflage had done nothing to hide their tanks from the accursed NATO gunships.

A barrage of missile is unleashed from the Apaches. A couple of should-launched SAMs were fired back at the Apaches. To their surprise an Apache went down. In the confusion of the missile exchange the crew failed to react in time. The Apaches back off and disappeared. They could see where the chopper had gone down. It was maybe 700 meters south of them towards the Japanese lines. Getting their hands on the crew was temping and better yet the Apache, but there was the question of how close to the Japanese lines was the crash site.

Apparently one young officer thought it was worth the risk as he took a couple of soldiers with him and a UAZ. The regiment watched the UAZ bounce down the road between two wheat fields. They got about 200 meters away from the Apache when the UAZ stopped. The regiment of JNA soldiers couldn't tell why they stopped. A captain with binoculars looked out on the Soviet designed jeep. He saw a man get out and make a mad dash back towards his side. The captain saw to his utter horror the man's head seem to explode from a large caliber bullet. There was a Japanese sniper out there.

PFC Nakamura Kyoko lay motionless. Her spotter Cpl Tanaka Haruka was scanning the UAZ.

"Looks like you got them all," said Tanaka. "317 meters, not bad, Kyo."

"This Yanki rifle makes it easy," said Nakamura with a grin patting her Barrett M82A1A, a high-powered .50 caliber anti-material rifle. The M82 and M107 were intended to take out targets at over 700 meters or engine blocks. She had put one round through the engine of the UAZ immobilizing it and then picking off the small squad one by one.

"I can't tell if the crew are alive," said Tanaka with concern.

"The rest of the battalion will be here soon, won't they, Haru?" asked Nakamura.

Nakamura and Tanaka were part of 2nd Battalion scout sniper squad. The scout sniper squad was small with four snipers, four spotters, a radio-op, and two riflemen for a total of 11 soldiers. In the past snipers operated in teams of two, but the USMC found in Afghanistan and Iraq that snipers operated more efficiently in small squads.

Nakamura had the Barrett. The other three had M24A3 sniper rifles. The four teams were spread out and their riflemen were guarding their rear from attack. The radio-op was relaying the information from the spotters and snipers to their Battalion S2 (intelligence officer).

Captain Ikari Matsuo, 2nd Battalion S2, stood over an electronic plot. It set up to react to reports from soldiers in the field and would give real-time information. Additionally it was a touch-screen. The scout snipers reported a regiment sized unit lying in wait in prepared positions. Ikari looked at the positions. They had lost some units from the Apache attack and there was one downed Apache. The JNA hadn't started dropping mortars on it which meant they probably intended to capture it intact.

"Ikari," called a voice from behind.

"Hai, Major?" said Ikari seeing Major Nara.

"What's your evaluation of the enemy?" asked Nara.

"Dug in, but this is a farmer's field, sir. The ground has been turned up for the spring planting. They have some slit trenches and a lot of foxholes. They'd crumble under artillery fire, sir."

"So ka," said Nara. "Get me the 327th Artillery Battalion."

The 327th was attached battery battalion to the 81st Infantry Regiment. A company of 105 mm field guns zeroed in on the Yugoslav lines. So did a company of 155 mm howitzers. True to Ikari's evaluation the trenches shattered as high-explosives slammed into the ground.

2nd Battalion was in time to see the remains of the Yugoslavian regiment surrender. Kenji saw their defeated faces. This was Kenji's first real good look at the Yugoslavians. They were Serbs and Croats. They were mostly pale skinned with dark eyes and slightly scraggily dark hair and round heads. A number of them were farmers and they were identifiable by having rough tan sun-damaged skin. Kenji wasn't quite sure how to describe them, but he could see the Slavs were distinctive from the Germans and British.

Lt. Urashima had spent enough time around Europeans to tell them apart. He could not only tell the Slavs apart from the Germanic people (Germans, Dutch, Anglo-Saxons, Austrians, Belgians, some French, Norse), Italics (Italians), Celts (Irish, Scots), Greeks, and Balts (Latvians, Estonians, Lithuanians, some Russians, some Scandinavians, some Germans and Poles), but Keitaro could also see the different between the sub-groups. He could even tell the difference between Serbs, Croats, Poles, Ukrainians, and Russians.

To the rest of the Japanese the Europeans were just a big wall of white. Keitaro smiled at the irony that his countrymen were of the opinion that all Westerners looked alike like the Westerners thought all Asians looked the same. This was reflective of their ignorance.

"Echo 4-0 to Echo Leader, looks like we've secured hostile defenses," said Urashima.

"Copy that," said Hitsugaya. "We'll be moving out soon. You got 15 minutes to rest. Out."

"Wilco."

Kenji sat piece of metal that appeared to have come from a T-55. He took off his helmet and laid his rifle in his lap. Haruki, Kazu, and Miho sat with him.

"Is it too early for lunch?" asked Kazu.

"It's barely 9:50," said Miho.

"9:50? Weren't we supposed to be on the move again?"asked Haruki.

"Ee," agreed Kenji. "I wonder what the holdup is."

"Oi, Sergeant!" called out Kazu. "Weren't we supposed to be moving out again?"

Hiroyoshi sighed and walked over to them. "F Company got delayed. We have to wait for them."

"Aren't we going to fall behind schedule then, Sergeant?" asked Miho narrowing her eyes. Marines were landing Sarandë. The 2nd Brigade 6th Infantry was supposed to be their relief. Marines were light infantry by definition. Not suited for fighting extended periods of time against heavy infantry and armor, but Sarandë was a city and light infantry did well there.

"We need to advance as a unit," said Hiroyoshi simply quoting his superiors who were quoting the Americans.

"What you'd expect? They're a pack of recruits," said Kazu shaking his head. "We should have pulled veterans into that unit."

"Great idea, pack your bags Kazu," said Kenji clapping him on the shoulder.

"Oi!"

"Just kidding," laughed Kenji.

"Haha," said Kazu sarcastically. Haruki grinned and Miho giggled.

"I think I see F Company," said Miho. On their right flank was a group of tanks and armored personnel carriers.

"I hope that's them 'cause we don't have anyone covering our flank, do we?" asked Haruki.

"So da to omou nai (I don't think so)," said Kenji lifting his sunglasses to have a better look.

"Those are Daburu Bōru (5)," said Miho seeing four Type 90 heavy tanks and two 10 Type medium tanks escorting the APCs and IFVs.

"Sure is nice to have 3rd Battalion's tanks," said Miho.

"So ne," agreed Haruki. "But we're still behind schedule. I wonder how the Marines are."

Kenji patted Haruki on the shoulder. He knew he was worried.

* * *

**0630 Hours; April 30****th****, 2012; offshore, Sarandë; Vlorë County, Republic of Albania**

Rear Admiral Yamanaka Taro on the flag bridge of JFS Soryū. As a general rule, the Soryū, stayed out of visual range of the shore. It was never smart to have an aircraft carrier where your enemy could see it. Better yet, never put it in range of shore based weapons. One the other hand a squadron of ships was racing towards the coast at flank speed (6). The plan was to take the Yugoslavians off guard. It was would be impossible for the JNA to not notice a squadron centered around a carrier in the sea.

The Admiral shipped his coffee while watching the tactical display. A US Navy Wasp Class amphibious assault ship was steaming flat out with two Arleigh Burke Class guided-missile destroyers and two Oliver Hazard Perry Class guided-missile frigates. USS Kearsarge (LHD-3) was carrying the 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit.

The Japanese 1st Marine Regiment was steaming for shore aboard three amphibious assault ships, four frigates, and four destroyers escorting. Their guns were silent. Surprise the primary objective. Colonel Kunisaki insisted that this was based off a World War I strategy the English had used. There was a little grumbling about how poorly the Europeans had done during the so-called Great War. The Japanese like Americans only studied the basics of World War I and how it led to the Russian Revolution and World War II.

The plan was fairly sound. Unlike the men under General Sir Henry Rawlinson and General Sir Douglas Haig, the men and women under Lt. General Honnoji Keiji enjoyed a much better understanding of modern warfare. The imperial armies of early 20th Century Europe did not grasp the horrible power at hand. Nearly 100 years later the Japanese knew that they had the means to launch a rapid surprise attack.

Helicopter engines screamed to life as the turbines spun faster than the human eye could possibly keep up. CH-53E Super Stallions and SH-60 Sea Hawks were being run through final safety checks while soldiers of the 3rd Marine Battalion prepared to strike the island that formed with the mainland the safe natural harbor of Sarandë. They would take out JNA artillery positions and AAA threats.

Mikoto wished she could see the 3rd Battalion launched from their assault ship, but she was in the dry dock bay on another assault ship. With them were Type 11s (7), the new amtracks (amphibious tracks). They'd only been in production since March 2011 so the 1st Marines were the first to have them. When they got into the harbor area they would deploy from their motherships and sail ashore aboard the amtracks. Once that was accomplished hovercraft bring vehicles ashore and some tanks. Marines were usually light on tanks. A US Marine battalion usually only got four Abrams tanks, or two Abrams tanks and four Patton medium tanks (8). A Japanese Marine battalion only got four Type 74 medium tanks, or the newer Type 10.

They were told to expect an entire Yugoslav armored brigade in Sarandë.

"Hanai, you still with us?" asked Gunnery Sergeant Ibuko Misaki, her platoon sergeant.

"Hai, sir," said Mikoto. It had taken her a little getting used to being called Hanai. She was Hanai Mikoto now after all.

"Check your weapon," said Ibuko as he moved down the line of marines all waiting for the order to mount up. Some checked their weapons, some checked their packs, some were smoking, some played cards, some listened to music, but they were all nervous and killing time.

Mikoto did as she was told. She removed the magazine from her rifle and then pulled back the bolt on her Type 89. She checked the chamber for any sign of dirt or rust. Nothing. She slid the bolt into the closed position which it did which smoothly with little resistance. She pointed the muzzle at the ground and de-cocked her gun by pulling the trigger before popping the clip back into the breach.

She checked the reflex site on her gun. It was clean. So was the scope attachment that gave her x2 magnification. The foregrip and flashlight were secure in their place. Her side-folding stock wasn't bent and locked into place securely. It was in perfect working condition. In fact better than when was issued it fresh from Towa Machinery Company Ltd when it was issued with a bad spring in the trigger mechanism render the rifle useless. These things happened. When hundreds of rifles were built a day a few of them bound to have problems.

"Mount up!" shouted her platoon leader. The order was echoed by her platoon sergeant and the squad leaders.

They crowded into a Type 11. Mikoto and Ichijō Karen sat together near the rear of the passenger compartment near the driver. The driver was a major fan of pop and was blasting into through the intercom system. Mikoto didn't mind pop music, but the driver was playing some crappy idol with large breasts and little in the way of depth. Not that Mikoto was implying well-endowed women were dumb since she was one.

With a sigh she also considered she was a bit of a sucker for male pop singers like Arashi (9). She wished that Corporal Takada would stop smoking, but at least he was doing it near the air vent that circulated air out and not the one that circulated fresh air in. Her squad leader, Staff Sergeant Yamada Sakura, was sitting cross-legged and doing a crossword puzzle. Their old squad leader was promoted and transferred to the training grounds Yokosuka. SSG Yamada had been in 3rd Marine Regiment during the war. She was quiet, but knew her stuff.

Mikoto felt the Type 11 roll down the ramp and into the bay. For a terrifying second the Type 11 felt as if it was sinking, but the nose popped out of the water and it bobbed around as it plowed its way to the rallying point. Despite the roar of the engines and the music still blaring through the intercom Mikoto could hear 127 mm guns shelling shore defenses.

Outside she knew frigates and destroyers fired a short and sudden barrage as planned and then waited for the Yugoslavians reveal their positions when they returned fire. She also knew that American and Japanese planes were raced overhead and were either bombing predetermined positions or out on a search-and-destroy mission.

"15 minutes!" said the driver over the intercom.

Too long in Mikoto's opinion. Why was it at these moments that she thought of what could go wrong? They could be struck by enemy artillery. The amtrack could sink. They could hit a mine. Did they have minesweeping ships with them?

She wondered if there would be tanks waiting for them on the beach. They had a few of the single-shot AT4s (10) and 84RRs (11).

"2 munites!"

Corporal Miyazaki Eiko, Mikoto's and Karen's team leader, told them to check their weapons. What she really meant was load their weapons.

"Okay, squad!" said Sgt. Yamada. "Takada, I want your team to move up to the first cover you find. Miyazaki, you move to the flank with your team. Syun-yong, follow Yamada's team and make sure their flank isn't exposed. They NTK is our best means of holding until 2nd platoon hits the beach."

The NTK Type 62 was the old Japanese light machine gun similar to the American M60 and Belgian MAG. When the Japanese Armed Forces expanded there wasn't enough of Type 62s and they had to buy M60s the US Army and Marine Corps had been selling.

Karen checked her weapon, an old Type 64, the assault rifle before the Type 89. The Type 64 fired the larger 7.62x51 mm round. It was still being used like an automatic rifle. There had been over 230,000 of them built, but many had been melted down before the war and the Japanese had bought some M14s from the US to equip some automatic rifles in the Army and Marines. They were the assault team and Karen was the support gunner.

They felt the distinctive bump of the amtrack hitting the ground.

"Clear the ramp!"

The ramp dropped and marines poured out of the rear of the Type 11. Mikoto saw that the Type 11 had managed to climb onto a dock. The armored amphibious assault vehicle continued to advance with its main gun, a .50 cal, firing away at Yugoslavian troops that had attempted to repel the marines.

Mikoto could see shattered barriers, roadblocks, and defenses that naval artillery had eliminated. At the end of the dock were multistory buildings. The ground floors were primarily markets, mostly devoted to fish, and the upper floors seemed to be people's apartments or small offices.

Mikoto fired when she saw muzzle flashes, but it was too hard to tell what she was shooting at. She halted behind a stack of burlap sacks filled with something with Miyazaki. Karen and PFC Tanazaki Ryō joined them.

"Ichijō! Suppress that MG," ordered Miyazaki pointing to a four story building where a light machine gun was suppressing their platoon.

"Hai!" said Karen. She leaned around the stack and fired short bursts at a third story window. She heard a snap as a bullet ricocheted off the ground a meter from her. Karen quickly pulled back behind the burlap sacks just before more rounds pounded away at where she was and then at the pile itself.

Karen guessed it was full of grain since wheat was leaking out of the bullet holes.

"Why don't those AAVs lay down some suppressing fire?" asked Mikoto. Like the American AAV-7A1, the Type 11 came standard with a .50 caliber heavy machine gun or Type 62 light machine gun, but they also came standard with either a 25 mm auto-cannon or a Type 96 40 mm automatic grenade launcher.

"Crest 1-2, this is Bushi 2-5," said Miyazaki. "Would you kindly do something about that MG?"

"Hai, hai, keep your shirt on… or not," said the gunner. "Right, third floor, five window from the right. Sayonara, jackass."

The window temporarily disappeared in a flume of dust as concrete was ripped apart by 25 mm tungsten jacketed ammo (11). Mikoto peaked over the top of the stack. At the chatter of an automatic weapon Mikoto ducked back down, but nothing happened. Whoever it was wasn't shooting at her.

"2nd Squad! Move! Move!" shouted Staff Sergeant Yamada. Yamada looked around for Corporal Syun-yong, the South Korean-born young woman who had joined the Japanese Navy Marine Corps.

"Crest 2-13, where are you, over?"

"Not sure, ma'am. We're pinned down, how copy?" said Syun-yong. Yamada could hear a lot of shooting, but it was going on all around her. The Navy had clearly failed to clear out the enemy and the enemy was way too close to call in artillery. Yamada did not like the idea of 127 mm shells that only needed to be 10-15 meters off to be ripping through them instead of the Yugoslavians.

Admiral Yamanaka couldn't help, but notice that things weren't going as well the Americans had planned. He sighed. 'Well, my superiors told me to improvise if I had to.'

The young admiral weighed his options. He hadn't been in the previous war, but he had studied the skirmishes that daring squadrons and flotillas had fought against the People's Liberation Army Navy to strangle their ground forces in Kitakyushu and Shimonoseki. He also studied the landings at Pusan and the Battle of the Yellow Sea. He couldn't risk a close in barrage without coordinates from the marines… but maybe a show of force was an option. He couldn't risk bringing his carrier closer.

"How many combatants are offshore?"

"Uh, two destroyers and two frigates. The other four are holdings screening positions around the amphibs (amphibious assault ships)," answered an ensign.

"Order them to engage."

"Sir, there're civilians-"

"We don't have many options right now," snapped the Admiral. He couldn't let the Yugoslavians build up too much strength and dig in long enough for tanks to be deployed or else his marines were going to die. He knew he might get court marshaled, but this was war and bad things often had to be done for the right reasons… but even then the right reasons were often gray.

"Strike on the way," reported a senior petty officer.

Yamanaka prayed that the JNA had removed most of the locals from the waterfront. It was possible since it would be easier for security purposes to keep people away from their best access to supplies. There was an active resistance in Sarandë and the port could be a line of communication.

Mikoto heard the roar of artillery incoming. She could hear her Navy shooting.

"Have they lost their minds?" asked Mikoto.

"Well I think it's better than dying here," said Tanazaki. None of the shells landed on the buildings where the machine guns were. They slammed into the buildings two blocks deeper in the city.

"Well I think they at least killed the mortars," said Miyazaki.

"Looks like the Amtraks have cleaned up the MGs," said Karen. "… You hear that?"

"Nani?"

"Sounds like a heavy vehicle motor," said Karen. "Not a tank, but maybe an APC."

"Bushi 1-0, you have a BVP inbound on your position, how copy?"

"Just the one?" asked the 1st Platoon Lieutenant.

"Negative, they have a second tracked vehicle. Unable to ID, but it is only armed with a heavy MG," said the radio operator located aboard the amphibious assault ship.

"Oh crap," exclaimed Karen.

"More like 'oh shit'!" yelled Mikoto angrily seeing the BVP, the KoV (Ground Forces) main tracked infantry carrier and a clone of the Soviet BMP-2. The BVP fired a wired-guided missile which struck the front of the AAV and exploded.

Miyazaki tried to examine the situation while 12.7 mm rounds battered away at them.

"This cover isn't going to hold!" shouted Tanazaki. "Who has the AT4?"

"Takanawa!" answered Cpl. Miyazaki.

"Where?"

"There!" shouted Karen pointing. "Looks like we need a new plan!"

PFC Takanawa, of the fire team, was lying in a pool of his own blood. A lance corporal was crawling low on his belly trying to get to the anti-tank weapon. A burst of machine gun fire raked his position and forces him to stop. The lance corporal was pinned and trapped in the open.

"Shimata (damn it)!" said Tanazaki. "I think I can make. Cover me, please."

"If you're volunteering," said Miyazaki. "Hanai, Ichijō?"

"Hai," they said in unison.

"Matte (wait)," said Miyazaki as she readied herself. "Jā, ima (now)!"

Tanazaki ran for dear life. She then slid towards the dead PFC like she had done playing baseball in high school. She grabbed the launcher, but found the strap still around the man's shoulder.

"Shit, ie, ie, Kami-sama, please don't let me die," said begged as she struggle to get it free. She felt someone at her side. It was the lance corporal. He drew out his Ka-Bar and cut the strap.

"Hayaku!" he screamed.

"Wakatta (I know)!" she screamed back.

Tanazaki hadn't fired a rocket launcher since training and had trouble figuring out the safety. The lance corporal roughly reached over and pressed the release and jammed down on the second release to arm it.

"Do you at least know how to fire it?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Just shoot the bastards!"

The rocket burst out of the launcher and slammed into the BVP. The IFV's fuel tank exploded and turned it into a large shrapnel bomb tearing into Yugoslav soldiers.

Tanazaki had been knocked off her feet by the recoil. She hadn't taken the proper stance. The lance corporal was holding his left ear in pain. He'd been standing too close to her and the rocket had nearly destroyed his hearing.

"There's still that second APC!" he shouted.

"Well I don't have another shot, now do I?" she said. She never had been so tempted to kick someone.

"Where's your rifle?"

"I left behind so I could run here faster, genius!"

"Watch your private!"

"You're one rank above me, jackass!"

"Ryō! This isn't the time!" shouted Karen thrusting Tanazaki's Type 89 into her hands. Karen took careful aim and then fired several shots at the MT-BL, the second APC that was still functioning. It was just like the American M113, the gunner was exposed. She missed though, but a bullet ricocheted near the MT-BL's gunner who went below.

"They've stopped shooting, advance!" ordered Sgt. Yamada.

Tanazaki moved up. She noticed the lance corporal was advancing on her right side. She was knew to the squad and didn't know most of her squad yet.

'Tanabe,' read Tanazaki seeing the name tag. 'Lance Corporal Tanabe.'

The gunner on the MT-BL opened the topside hatch again and was reaching for the MG when he noticed he was now surrounded by Japanese Marines.

"Hands on your head!" shouted someone. It was a little useless since he was yelling in Japanese at a Serbian soldier who only spoke Serbian, but the message was clear. The soldier slowly climbed out of the hatch and climbed down to the ground.

"No gun I have," he said in broken English.

"Urusai (Shut up)," said another lance corporal kicking the soldier just below the knee joint from behind causing the soldier to fall to his knees.

"Search him," said Yamada. "You two get the driver out."

"Hai," Tanazaki and Tanabe.

"You have a plan?" she asked somewhat grudgingly.

"Betsu ni (not really)," said Tanabe. "And no need to sound so bitter. We were in a life or death situation back there. I'll die for my country if Nihon, the Emperor, and the Kami call for it, but I don't have to then I'd prefer to live."

"So desu ne," agreed Tanazaki.

"Ah, talking politely now, are we?" he asked. Tanabe examined the front of the APC and seemed to be looking for an opening.

"Like you said. Life or death."

"Hai, hai," said Tanabe. He knocked on the driver's hatch like it was someone's front door and said, "Oi, Commie bastard. Come on out. We promise not to shoot."

"Does anyone speak these guys' language?" asked Tanazaki.

"Not that I know of."

"What's the hold up?" asked Mikoto.

"We can't figure out how to get this guy out alive, Miko-chan," said Tanazaki.

"Watch this," Mikoto. She pounded on the hatch and yelled, "Get out here or else!"

She followed through by firing a shot in the air. There was some panicked shouting and a metallic squeak as the driver opened it. They saw a man much older than them holding his hands up.

"Get out here," said Mikoto grabbing him by the collar and nearly throwing him out of the vehicle. "See? Easy."

"Hai," said Tanabe a little dumbfounded. Tanazaki smirked a little at his reaction.

"Impressed?" she asked.

"Ee. Jā, ikimasu (Yeah. Well, I'm off)," he said. Tanazaki didn't follow him. She followed Mikoto to her team, but when she looked over to him later she saw that Tanabe bowed in prayer over Takanawa.

* * *

**0800 Hours; April 30****th****, 2012; CIA Safehouse, Podgorica; Podgorica Municipality, Socialist Republic of Montenegro; Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia**

James Shinhachi was standing in front of a mirror. He was dressed in a grey suit. He was a Chinese businessman… today. He left the safehouse. He carried no gun. He only had a concealed knife which was made of a non-magnetic material. Unfortunately the knife was much more likely to break in combat, still it was better than going unarmed.

Montenegro was a beautiful country to visit, but many Americans avoided the Soviet-allied nation. The Balkans was also not a place that that US Department of State encouraged people to vacation in anyways.

Shinhachi sat down at a café in a hotel lobby. He read a Soviet newspaper called the People's Words. He didn't appear to be watching a VOA agent who was entertaining a 'lady friend'.

_Josip Ranković, Captain, Vojnoobavestajna Agencija. Born in Nis, Serbia. Joined VOA in March 1999. Completed training in July 2001. Trained with GRU in 2002. Known Ops: Assassination of Abul Nazif in September 2003. Blew up a Chechen safehouse November 2003. Stole nuclear secrets from US launch facilities in Turkey June 2005 after two years of careful planning._

"Is that our target?" asked a second man.

"Chinese only," said Jamie.

_Sousky Mikhailovoich Segal aka Sousuke Sagara. Age: 20, DOB: 1__st__ November, 1990. POB (Place of Birth): Ikarov, Vladivostok Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic, Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic. Ethnicity: Japanese, Slavic/Russian. Nationality: Great Russian (formerly), Japanese (cover ID), American (actual). Service: Soviet Red Army (former), Committee for State Security First Chief Directorate (KGB) (former), United States Navy (techincally), SEAL Team Uruz (current), Office of Naval Intelligence. Languages: English, Russian, Arabic, Pashto, Dari (13), Serbian, Croatian, Albanian, Ukrainian, Japanese._

Sousuke was a very qualified man, but Jamie would have preferred a more experienced field officer. Still, Sousuke was a very discipline soldier and didn't question orders. He just lacked some of the subtly an American agent needed. In fact Sousuke still projected an aura of a KGB agent and in the Balkans Jamie was worried that people might pick up on that or worse he'd be identified active KGB agents.

"This is a simple snatch and grab. The other agent will be doing all the work. We're just her backup and the extract team. Clear?"

"Shi (yes)," said Sousuke in Mandarin.

"Good."

The call-girl that Ranković talking to was a CIA operative. Jamie thought she was doing okay, but she was too green. She'd just graduated from the Farm, the nickname of the Central Intelligence Agency's training facility, only a month ago. Still she seemed confident. There were at least 3 other agents, two CIA and one ONI (Office of Naval Intelligence), in the field with them. There were also two NSA operators in Fort Meade, MD, home of the NSA headquarters, working tactical support.

"She's on the move," said one of the CIA agents posing as a Polish factory boss quietly reading a newspaper. Jamie did not acknowledge his radio. He didn't want to risk compromising the op with an unnecessary communication. He waited 7 minutes and 20 seconds before getting up. It was a completely random time that had been planned ahead of time. He dropped a tip and stood up.

He and Sousuke went into the hotel. They took the stairs and stopped at the third floor landing. There was a trashcan.

"I'll keep watch," said Jamie. Sousuke pulled off the lid and took out the bag. There was a cloth with two Makarovs and two sound suppressors.

"I've never liked Russian guns," said Jamie. "A Berretta or a Glock would have been fine. Or a Browning Hi-Power. They're all so common the Russians wouldn't make the connection." Brownings, Glocks, and Berrettas were all very common guns and the Soviets used them too. SIGs, Colts, Smith & Wessons, and H&Ks were more signature weapons of NATO militaries.

"Six agents in the hotel and we're the only two who've been doing this for more than six months. Where can we go wrong?" Jamie asked sarcastically.

There were three successive thuds.

"And those were shots," said Sousuke matter-of-factly.

Jamie and Sousuke raced to the sixth floor and then paused at the door. Jamie opened it slowly and used a small palm-sized mirror to peak around the corner and down the hallway. He saw three men emerge from a room in the middle of the hall. Two had handguns out and the third a small sub-machine gun called the Škorpion Vz. 61 (14). The others appeared to be carrying CZ-99s, the main sidearm of the Yugoslav People's Army.

"We are jobs just got harder," said Jamie. "Two tangos with the target. One SMG. One handgun. Both standard weapons. Target has a standard issue handgun too. No sound suppressors."

"And our agent."

"No visual. She's probably incapacitated," said Master Gunnery Sergeant Shinhachi by which he meant dead. "Forget her and left the others come to her. We have the mission at hand."

"Roger," said Petty Officer Sagara automatically. He didn't like leaving a teammate behind, but he also was a veteran who knew better than to jeopardize such an important mission.

"Okay, go," said the Marine getting up and walking down the hall. He spoke into the wrist mounted mic for his radio and ordered, "All units, Piccadilly Circus. Execute now."

It was the signal for the others that something had gone wrong and that the others should report to the originally planned strike zone. Jamie had no doubt they would find the agent dead or on the verge of death. He knew it was a mistake to use someone without more field experience and now a poor promising CIA agent paid the price of some section leader trying to impress the directorate commander.

"This is what happens when the Company tries to put on an op too quickly to save face with the Federal Government, son," said Jamie. Sousuke thought the 'son' part was a bit much. Shinhachi wasn't that much older than himself, but war did have a way of aging people… even when it was unconventional and covert wars.

"New rules of engagement," said Shinhachi. Sousuke wondered if he had that kind of authority, but the Master Gunny was the man in charge and had a higher security clearance than most of his own superiors. "All tangos expendable. Engage with extreme discretion, oo-rah?"

"Oo-yah," answered Sousuke like the he was Navy SEAL as opposed to a Marine like Shinhachi. Sousuke understood his orders as to kill any of the bodyguards that got in the way, but with strict judgment.

They reached the stairs at the other end of the hall. But before they could touch it the door flung open as a man jumped out manically spraying 9 mm rounds around. Sousuke and Jamie, both highly trained and experienced in combat, had leaped back when the doorknob had turned and were well clear when bullets raked the wall and even the ceiling. A couple of fluorescent bulbs exploded when grazed by the sporadic barrage from the Škorpion. The man was blinded by the sudden darkness and had expended the entire magazine too quickly.

Jamie ran up to him and stomped on his foot. He heard a satisfying crunch telling him that he'd broken the guard's foot. He kicked his foot into the man's shin spreading his legs too far apart for the guard to be able to move. While he did this he took his right hand and wrapped it around the guard's throat and crushed it so the man couldn't scream. Then he took both hand shoved him against a wall and snapped the guard's neck. It was textbook Soviet mixed-martial arts.

"You fight like a Russian?"

"Sambo and Systema are very effective ways of killing people in close quarters. Let's move. I doubt they're so deaf that they didn't hear all that."

"Are we compromised?" asked Sousuke speeding up to catch up with Jamie.

"Probably, but the mission ain't scrubbed yet," answered the Master Gunney.

They exited the hotel and looked around.

"There," said Sousuke. "In that BMW."

It wasn't hard to spot the one expensive German-made car out of the numerous cheap Russian, Czech, Polish, and Serbian made cars. Jamie walked up to a car. It was a beat-up looking car based off the UAZ-469 that was pretty common in amongst the Soviets that had earned enough money to afford a car. It wasn't hard to pry open the door with its poorly made locking mechanism.

"Get in," ordered Jamie calmly. He looked at Sousuke as he got in on the passenger side. "You took the SMG?"

"I thought it would come in handy at this point."

Jamie thought about it as he hot-wired the car. "Hmm, good point… got it, here we go."

The gears grinded as Jamie shifted gears. "Piece of Soviet shit. This isn't even the Red Army version. This is the shit version they pass off as a car for the people."

"You forget Master Gunnery Sergeant, I was born a Russian. I already know these things," said Sousuke. "And we had an old GAZ-69 from the Great Patriotic War. It had bullet holes in it and my brother once found a German bullet in it when he was working on the old thing."

Shinhachi was quiet. He'd grown up in a life of much greater luxury even by American standards. He knew that kind of discrimination that Sagara would have suffered being half-Japanese in the Soviet Russia.

They pursued Ranković and his escort. Jamie was keeping three cars behind the German-made luxury car.

"Windows are too heavily tinted. I can't tell how many there are," said Sousuke.

"We'll find out soon enough. They might be on to us," said Jamie seeing the erratic driving pattern.

"Has a mission ever gone this badly for you, sir?"

"Many. Sometimes I still complete my objects. Sometimes I save the entire mission… most of the time we cut our losses and scrub the mission. I've been lucky to have not had missions that have the shit completely hit the fan lately," said Shinhachi. He was silent for five minutes. "In Turkey, I worked an op with the Army. It was coordinated by the NSA and planned by the DoHS (Department of Homeland Security). It was near the Iraq border."

"Searching for insurgents, sir?"

"Weapons' smugglers supplying the insurgents. These were sick guys. They were terrorizing the local Kurdish population. Child rape. Real SOBs. We had a real problem getting the Turks and Kurds border. This was just as we were pulling out so the Iraqi government didn't feel like helping us. A Kurdish group launched an attack across the border. We got caught up in the shooting. Our target escaped and we lost three agents."

"They're turning into that warehouse."

"And that doesn't look like a trap," said Jamie sarcastically.

They pulled around back and got out. Shinhachi checked his ammo. One mag in his gun and no spares. They weren't expecting any kind of resistance or a shootout.

"How much you got in that SMG?"

"One in the gun. One spare."

"Not enough for any error. Well," he grabbed Sagara's hand and shook it, "nice meeting you Petty Officer."

"Uh, like wise."

"When you work at my level of black ops you take a few lessons from the Israelis. Treat every good bye like your last and make them count."

They entered the warehouse. There were workers busy inside but paid them no mind. The ground floor was full of steel beams, but the ceiling was low for a warehouse suggesting there was a second level of storage. They went upstairs keeping their weapons out of sight.

At the top of the stairs a man suddenly appeared. He had a gun in his hand. Jamie in a millisecond processed it drew his gun and put a 9 mm Makarov between his eyes. Sousuke was caught off guard. One of the few things in his file that hadn't been decked out was that James Shinhachi was an expert marksman with any gun in hand.

"Clean kill," said Jamie under his breath as the man tumbled down the stairs. He lifted his foot and stopped the man from tumbling much like one would stop a soccer ball. The man had a Yugoslavian M92 carbine that had been modified so a silencer could be mounted, something that couldn't be done on most Soviet guns and its clones.

"I'll be taking that," picking up the clone of the Soviet ASK-74U carbine.

When they reached the top of the stairs they peaked around. Then they saw a small flash. Both Americans ducked as bullets raked them fired by sound suppressed guns.

There was a pause in the shoot.

"Go," said Jamie.

Both Americans ran out of the stairwell. There were five of them and Ranković. Sousuke and James leaped-frogged from stacks beams to the next. The guards were poor gunmen and were quickly cut down.

"It's over," said Shinhachi in Serbian.

"Fuck you, Yankee!" shouted Ranković raising a CZ-99, the standard Yugoslavian sidearm. Shinhachi coldly fired a bullet into his hand. The gun clattered to the floor covered in blood and with a 9 mm hole in the grip rendering it useless.

"No need for violence, Comrade. We just have a few questions. We'll be taking you with us and if you cooperate you may be allowed to live."

"You think it will be so simple, American?"

"No said we are Americans or it would be simple."

"What are you expecting? You think it will end with me?"

"We expect this to be the tip of the iceberg," said Jamie with a smile.

"You think so?" said Ranković with a slight manic grin. "This is a dead, imperialist scum."

"Enough of this, Ranković," said Sousuke. "On your-"

A pane of glass on the large window behind them shattered.

"Shit, down!" shouted Jamie in English. Ranković lay in a pool of blood. A small 7.62 mm round in his forehead and much larger hole in the back of his head where blood dripped out. A large cone of brain matter and blood behind where he stood.

"Did you hear a shot?" demanded Jamie.

"Negative, sir," answered Sousuke. They peaked around the support columns. "There's one building 200 meters away. Most probable sniping position."

Jamie walked into the open and up to the bleeding corpse. "7.62, doesn't tell us much since NATO and Soviets both use them. Bullet went out the other side."

"Who did this?"

"Could be anyone. We extract now."

"Understood."

It took two days before they could safely extract into the USS Tuatha de Danaan, the US Navy's most secret weapon. The Danaan normally operated in the Pacific under the Pacific Command, mainly the West Pacific around the Japanese Isles, Korean Peninsula, the Chinese coast, and Soviet Waters. It was officially designated in the fleet logs as the SSBN-744 USS Oregon, the 19th Ohio Class fleet ballistic missile submarine. There was no SSBN-744 and only 18 Ohio submarines were ever built. In a never secure area of the Office of Naval Intelligence was the record of SSBCN-01 USS Tuatha de Danaan, a nuclear-powered light carrier submarine with ballistic missile capability.

The Danaan was the brainchild of her very young captain, Captain Teletha Testarossa. The young captain of was mix Germanic ancestry, mainly Swiss and Austrian, was disembarking her submarine. They were in a submarine pen. The dock was lit by numerous florescent lights cast an eerie glow upon the aging concrete walls. The entrance was blocked by a steel gate that could stop 5 inch naval shell. Above it was some of the signs of this base's sinister past. Workers had tried to remove it, but the ghostly faded image of an eagle holding a swastika was still visible.

As she walked along the dock she approached a guarded doorway where two marines snapped to attention. Above the door was written:

Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Führer

Sieg Heil

In her mind she translated it: One people, one Reich, one leader. Hail victory.

They were in Sicily. The Kriegsmarine, the name of the German Navy during World War II, had built hidden submarine pens in Europe. The US Army had captured it in the summer of 1943 during Operation: Husky, the invasion of Sicily. The US Navy's base of European Operations was in Sicily and located nearby. The Germans had built it to harass the British in the Mediterranean and they had built some of the pens to be big enough to accommodate surface ships. This was where the US Navy deployed its missile subs in the Mediterranean. The Navy had only started using the base in 2001 and spent most of the time making it operational. The cosmetics came second even when the base commander, Rear Admiral Jacob Bernstein, found it revolting.

Tessa reached the Admiral's office door and knocked. On the door in pealing white letters was: Marineoberkommando das Süd (Naval Commander of the South). A sign was attached over it: Commander of Special Naval Operations.

"Enter," ordered the Admiral. Rear Admiral Bernstein was in his late 50s and balding. Tessa couldn't help but notice the photo of Adolf Hitler hanging on the wall and that Bernstein was using it as a dartboard. It was not usual for his aide outside the Admiral's office to hear expletives in Hebrew when he was pissed.

"Admiral," said Tessa snapping to attention.

"Captain," said Bernstein. "I received a mission fail signal. Care to explain?"

Bernstein was a tough commander. He chosen to be the Navy's spec ops commander for his no nonsense attitude and his ability to produce results when he worked for the Office of Naval Intelligence.

"Yes, sir. I personally debriefed my man… ur operative… um, you know what I mean, right?" said Tessa nervously. She had meant by 'my man' to mean her soldier in the field, but the young captain tended to be very self-conscious.

"Get on with it?" said Bernstein in a bored tone.

"Aye, Admiral. Petty Officer Second Class Sousuke Sagara successfully rendezvoused with Master Gunnery Sergeant James Shinhachi. Operation started without any indication of problems. Josip Ranković was positively ID'd by our agent and he proceeded to meet with Agent Margret Smith. It was at that point that something went wrong. Sergeant Shinhachi and Petty Officer Sagara both heard gunshots. Two backup agents saw to Agent Smith… the CIA should know their agent is KIA (Killed in Action)."

"They probably already know," said Bernstein leaning forward. His mouth was hidden by his clasped hands so Tessa couldn't see his expression. "Their own agents will be wiring Langley. I need to be able to tell the Suitland (15) something."

"Aye, sir," said Tessa. "Our men pursued Ranković. They killed a man in the hotel and stole a car to pursue the target. They cornered Ranković in a warehouse belonging to a steel mill and successfully eliminated his bodyguards."

"But?"

Tessa took a deep breath and said, "Ranković was killed by a sniper unknown. Sergeant Shinhachi reports that Ranković was likely killed with a 7.62 mm round."

Bernstein snorted. "A 308? The .308 cal (7.62 mm) is only the most common rifle caliber out there. Everyone uses them. We use them, Ivan uses them, the Chinese use them, the North Koreans, the Krauts, the Limeys, the Frenchies, and even the fucking Yukes use them."

Tessa flinched.

"Now, Admiral, it's not nice to make a lady cry," said a voice. James Shinhachi stood at the door in tan tunic and blue trousers, the Marine Corps's semi-formal/base uniform for enlisted soldiers and NCOs. "The sniper was a pro. We heard no shot. It was close enough that he could have used an assault rifle. I'm thinking it was probably AKM, an SKS, or something similar."

"How good was this guy?" asked Bernstein fixing the marine with his eyes.

"One shot through the forehead at 210 meters takes skill with a sniper rifle. If I'm right and he did it with a sniper rifle then we're dealing with a professional assassin. I had a chance to examine the shooter's nest," said Shinhachi with a nod. There was a glint in his eyes. He seemed almost alive with excitement. "The position he took, the place he shot him, and the fact he took into account that the bullet would end up in a location beyond our ability to retrieve it is pretty fucking good. This is something I see Mossad do. A lot of other agencies copy Mossad's tactics and BIA isn't one of them. It could be CIA, SIS, KSK, or a few others."

"Anyone from the Eastern Blocs?" asked Bernstein leaning back in his chair. It was clear that he was giving Shinhachi his full professional attention.

"KGB and GRU," said Shinhachi flatly.

Bernstein let out a deep sigh, leaned back further, rubbed his right hand across his face, and stared up at the ceiling. He looked very old. He 57 years old. Next year would be the 40th anniversary he was drafted into the US Navy back in 1971. He finished his training in 1972 just in time to be told the Vietnam War had ended and he could go home. He was the middle child of seven. His father wanted him to be a doctor, but Jacob Bernstein wanted to stay in the Navy, much the horror of his mother. His family did not understand his desire to be part of something exciting and to choose his in path in life. He was sent into the covert operations of the Navy in 1974 after working in submarines. He oversaw SEAL operations and worked tirelessly to overthrow the Soviet Union. They were so close in 1989. The Cold War should have ended that year when the Warsaw Pact dissolved. He was so sure that the USSR would have collapsed by 1991. It 2010, he was told they have flying cars that would fold into suitcases and live in houses miles above the Earth's surface. 19 years and he was still waiting to see the fall of his hated enemy.

"Just great," said Bernstein. "I'm going to tell Suitland and let them figure out what to tell Washington. Then I'm going home."

Shinhachi stood up.

"Sergeant? Where are you going?" asked Tessa.

"I have to return to my superior officer. This is going to be a long week. Good day to you Captain."

And with that, the young marine left to meet a car with a driver who would drive him to Catania-Fontanarossa International Airport, located southwest of Catania, Sicily. From there he would board a British Airways flight to Gatwick International Airport in London. Then he would take a train Heathrow International Airport, London's other international airport, the busiest in the United Kingdom, one of the busiest in Europe, and the fifth busiest in the world. He would then board a Continental Airlines flight to Liberty International Airport in Newark, New Jersey. Then another transfer via Alaska Airlines to SeaTac (Seattle-Tacoma International Airport).

Jamie was exhausted as he got off the small subway system that connected the main terminal with the two satellite terminals. He had only the carry-ons, one dark-blue shoulder-bag, and one black wheeled-suitcase the nearly every traveler seemed to own. At the baggage claim he was greeted with a surprise. He was expecting his cousin, but instead he saw his future sister-in-law.

"E-em-m-ma," he stuttered.

"Jamie," she greeted with a smile and hug. "How was your flight?"

"L-long," he said.

Emma cocked her head to the side and waited to see if he would say more. Jamie was usually a man of few words. Sometimes Emma wondered if he was autistic because of his stutter, his social awkwardness, and the fact he rarely made eye-contact, but he never stuttered with Jack and he usually made eye-contact with his other cousin, Maya. Jack had once told her that Jamie was the one person he would ever need to back him up in a fight, but for the life of her Emma couldn't see it. Jamie was different from Jack.

"Wher-r-re is S-sai-t-t-t-to?" asked Jamie.

"Busy. Always some crisis with him. Come on, my car is in the garage," said Emma.

"Pro-b-bably is a-a-a crisis," stuttered Jamie. "O-oh, omiyage (gift)."

Emma smiled and accepted the gift. Jamie tended to be more of a traditionalist than Jack and would bring gifts back from his trips, a tradition called omiyage.

"Domo, kore wa doko (Thanks, where is it from)?" Emma asked holding a package.

"Si-si-cily," answered Jamie. "It's a-a-a vase."

"What did you get Jack?"

"Classified," said Jamie.

'The one word he doesn't stutter,' thought Emma wryly. She couldn't help, but notice she was surrounded by spies. Jack was some kind of spy, Maya was a spy, Jason was a spy, and Jamie… Emma always found it interesting that no one ever talked about what he did. She once asked her cousin in Germany if he'd heard of James Daisuke Shinhachi, age: 22, USMC. Her cousin went pale at the name and quickly changed the subject.

"Jamie, what was your business trip for?" asked Emma as she started her BMW and pulled out of the garage.

"NCIS's business-s-s. I-I-I was the-r-re to ov-v-v-ver there to i-n-n-nsp-spect the US Navy's Sixth Fleet's H-H-HQ in Naples," answered Jamie.

"But Naples is in Italy," she prodded as she pulled onto the State-518 East and then I-405 North which would skirt around the lake and go directly to Bellevue and Kirkland.

"W-w-we use a-a-an Italian-n-n b-base in Sic-cily. I w-was there t-to ch-check its s-s-security."

"But what else do you do?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," he said.

Emma stared at him. He had not stuttered. He was staring ahead at the road, but Emma cold see firmness in his eyes. It a cold look of professionalism, but the words sounded… wry, almost amused.

Jamie let out a small grin when he knew Emma wasn't looking.

* * *

Sorry about the delay. I'm back in school and I had a long and very bad summer. I've actually been a little depressed lately.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. The Type 96 is a wheeled armored personnel carrier very similar in appearance and role to the basic configuration of the Canadian Stryker used in both the United States and Canada. It has a crew of 2 and can carrier 8 fully armed soldiers. The Type 96 uses either a Type 96 40 mm automatic grenade launcher or an M2 .50 caliber heavy machine gun. It is an 8x8 vehicle with a top speed of 100 km/h (62 mph) and a range of 500 km (310 mi). The Type 96 has been in service with the Japanese Ground Self-Defense Forces since 1996.

2. Some guns are open bolt which means it's fired from the open position. Most rifles and all handguns (as far as I know) are closed bolt weapons. Most machine guns and a lot of sub-machine guns are open bolt. On an open bolt gun when the trigger is pulled the bolt will release and close loading a round into the chamber and firing it. The disadvantages of open bolts are that the your shooting isn't as accurate since the bolt moves before the round is fired instead of after. The other is that the chamber is exposed to dirt and the elements. The advantage is that open bolt guns are simpler so jamming is less likely and since the bolt is open the gun tends to stay cooler. This is why machine guns are open bolt they are not concerned with accuracy and jamming and overheating are primary concerns.

3. I had a chance to learn a little Tae Kwon-do. Mainly you want to hit your opponent with the balls of your feet or your heel since they were the most solid part of the human foot. Otherwise you'll probably break your foot.

4. Japan doesn't use the McDonnell-Douglas AH-64D Apache Longbow, one of the most advance and deadliest attack helicopters on the modern battlefield. They do have permission to produce the older AH-64A Apache which is designated the AH-64DJP. I don't know which company has the contract, mostly likely Mitsubishi Heavy Industries makes the Japanese Ground Self-Defense Force's Apache, but it's possible they buy them directly from McDonnell-Douglas. The AH-64DJP has pretty much all the same features of the AH-64A: one 30 mm M230 chain gun, four pylons for munitions such as the Hydra 70 free-flight rocket, the AGM-114 Hellfire, the AGM-65 Maverick, AIM-9 Sidewinder, or the AIM-92 Stinger. The Apache has a crew of two (pilot and weapons operator), two General Electric T700-GE-701 engines, a weight of 11,387 lb (empty), a max speed of 182 mph (293 km/h), range of 295 mi (476 km), max altitude of 21,000 (6,400 m), and a rate of climb of 2,500 ft/min (12.7 m/s).

5. If the Japanese MBT Type 90 has a nickname I don't know it and so I made one up. Kyū-maru is the official designation which is literally Japanese for 'nine-zero'. Kyū is the number nine, but there are a few other characters with the same pronunciation one being 'ball, sphere' and maru can mean zero or circle. So I've given it the nickname Daburu Bōru, which are English barrowed words for Double Ball. This is one way Japanese come up with nicknames by using a play on Kanji characters. If anyone wants to come up nicknames for Japanese vehicles feel free to help me because realistically the Japanese probably wouldn't just use a number designation all the time.

6. Flank speed is a term used normally by navies. It means full speed, beyond what is normally advised. Ships normally travel between 13-20 knots. Warships avoid high-speeds because the engine and cavitations noises make it too easy for submarines to locate you and virtually impossible to locate hostile submarines even with active sonar. Also flank speed is hard on the engines and it something particularly dangerous if you're using a nuclear-powered ship with an old and poorly maintained reactor. Flank speed is used as an emergency measure to save the ship like if there are incoming anti-ship missiles.

7. The Type 11 is not a real vehicle. It is an amphibious tracked vehicle. I've imagined it to look like the US Marine Corps's AAV-7A1, many Japanese vehicles are clones or close copies of vehicles in service with the United States Armed Forces. Type 11 implies its entry into service would have been the year 2011. I've imagined it to be built by Mitsubishi Heavy Industries, which is the main supplier of military vehicles to the Japanese Self-Defense Forces.

8. The M60 Patton tank is not in service with the US Armed Forces. The last of the M60A3s were phased out in 1997. Many of the M60s are still in service with Taiwan, Israel, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, and 15 other countries, the Arab Republic of Egypt has the most with 2,300 M60A3s. The US Army Reserve still have the remainder of the M60A3s that have not been sold or scrapped and some are in storage for the USMC.

9. I don't know much about Arashi, but my classmates who take Japanese with me talk about him. He seems to be very popular amongst young girls between junior high and college ages.

10. The AT4 like its predecessor the M72 LAW can only fire one shot. Unlike the M9 Bazooka, SMAW, FGM-172 SRAW, or FGM-148 Javelin, the AT4 can only be fired once. It is called a single-shot or disposable anti-tank weapon. The idea is that a soldier fires it in the field and then abandons the launcher so as to not have to carry the weight of the launcher. Russian counterparts include things like the RPG-18 and the RPG-22. One-shot AT weapons tend to be cheap and provide basic infantrymen with an AT weapon. Reloadable weapons tend to be more sophisticated, powerful, and recent ones are even guided.

11. The 84RR, 84 mm Recoilless Rifle, is licensed by Howa from Saab Bofors Dynamics, a Swedish weapons company. It is designated by Saab Bofors as the Carl Gustaf Recoilless Rifle. It fires an 84 mm anti-tank shell at 6 rounds a minute with a muzzle velocity at around 250 m/s (depending on shell). Range varies with shell type, but some have a max range around 1,300 meters. It is the primary anti-tank weapon of the Japanese Ground Self-Defense Forces.

12. Tungsten (Chemical Symbol: W, Atomic Number: 74, Original Name: Wolfram) is the heaviest metal and a very dense one classified as a transition metal. Tungsten has traditionally been used in thin coils inside incandescent light bulbs. World War II saw the first usage of tungsten coded anti-tank rounds to piece heavily armored tanks. Tungsten coded or jacketed ammo is stilled used as a high-penetration round to rip through tank armor and an alternative to depleted uranium.

13. Pashto is the official national language of Afghanistan. Dari is another very commonly spoken language by the Afghans.

14. Česká Zbrojovka Uherský Brod's, the main Czechoslovakian arms manufacturer, Škorpion vz. 61 is a sub-machine gun that is widely distributed with nearly a quarter of a million built. They were officially used by Afghanistan, Angola, Czech Republic (Czechoslovakia successor), Slovakia (Czechoslovakia successor), Egypt, Indonesia, Libya, Mozambique, Yugoslavia (Serbia continues usage), and Uganda. It fires a 9x18 mm Makarov, but there are existing versions that used the 9x19 mm Parabellum. It only has an effective range of 25 m. It's a closed-bolt gun, has a folding stock, muzzle velocity of 320 m/s, rate of fire 850-900 rounds (depending on whether you're using 9 mm Makarov or 9 mm Parabellum), and fires from a 10 or 20 round. It's stats are comparable to that of the Uzi. With a length of 270 mm (10.6 in) it's a very concealable gun and popular amongst security services, organized crime, and terrorists. It lacks the accuracy and superior muzzle velocity of the H&K MP-5, H&K MP-7, H&K UMP 45 and UMP 40, or the FN P-90 which bigger but have greater killing power. Zastava Arms, the main Serbian arms maker, also has rights to build the Škorpion vz. 61 under the name M84… not to be confused with the M84 tank, the main battle tank of the Serbian Army, and the M84 medium machine gun, the Serbian copy of the PKM.

15. Suitland, Maryland is home of the National Maritime Intelligence Center which is the headquarters of Office of Naval Intelligence, Naval Information Warfare Activity, Coast Guard Intelligence Coordination Center, and the Marine Corps Intelligence Activity. The Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) was established in 1882 which makes it the oldest intelligence service still active in the US. For that reason ONI is considered the senior military intelligence service, but Defense Intelligence Agency has come to act as the umbrella agency for the military intelligence community.


	18. Chapter 18: Battle of Sarande

Hey guys. Sorry. Been really depressed. Not doing so well with life in general. I'm getting help now though, so I'm hoping things will get better. Anyways, whoever left that last review with no name I'm sorry. I owe you guys an apology. The rest of you guys. I'm sure you probably stopped looking for updates, but I need to keep going, don't I? Chapter 19 is partly written. I recently watched the Pacific and it's given me some new ideas which will probably be clearer with the next chapter.

I don't own anything copywritten or trademarked.

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Battle of Sarandë**

"History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce."

Karl Marx

Major architect of modern social science and founder of Marxism and co-author of the Communist Manifesto

**1045 Hours; April 30****th****, 2012; west side districts, Sarandë; Vlorë County, Republic of Albania**

"Where fuck are those Army fuckers?" demanded a marine.

"Wakanai yo (I don't know)!" shouted Corporal Miyazaki. "Just shoot back!"

The JFMC (Japanese Federal Marine Corps) was having a very hard time in Sarandë. Their tanks had been delayed coming ashore and they had lost contact with the Americans. Staff Sergeant Yamada was sitting behind a brick wall quite calmly and reading a map.

"By my reckoning, the 26th Marines are probably 200 m north of us. I'd say part of a battalion has us cut off. It's unlikely the Americans have been wiped out by the Yukes," she said nonchalantly.

"Sakura, how can you be so calm at a time like this?" asked Gunnery Sergeant Ibuko.

"One of us has to be, Eiko. How's the Lieutenant?"

"Bad. We need a medi-vac," said Ibuko.

"Who's in charge then?" shouted Miyazaki.

"Eto, eto, I guess it would be me," said Ibuko who hadn't given it much thought.

"Well you are the platoon sergeant," said Yamada.

"But, but, I don't…"

"Fine, I'll lead if you assist," offered Yamada calmly.

"Ii yo (that's fine)," said Ibuko.

"Okay then. This is Bushi 2-1 to all 1st platoon marines. I'll be taking command and will be now responding to callsign Bushi 1-0," said Yamada into her radio. "I'm now redirecting our goals to a more immediate primary objective: Survive."

All the Japanese marines of 1st Platoon were listening as best they could. When their lieutenant went down the platoon had descended into chaos.

"Our commander officers will want us to pursue our given objectives, but this will not be possible if too much of our battalion is lost," said Yamada still examining her map. She had been listening to other units' transmissions and had plotted their locations. She had a plan. "Firstly, 3rd Squad, you will fall back to Grid: Golf 36. You're too far out. The enemy will figure that out and will flank you."

"3-1, wilco," said Sgt. Syun-yong. Her marines followed her grudgingly. They didn't like retreating, but some of them knew that if they were overrun by the Yugoslavians then there would be a gap in the line. In fact there were already gaps, but a tactical retreat could fill them.

"2nd Squad, hold your ground. Will work on armor support for you. 1st Squad, fall back to street north of 2nd Squad's position. This will bring us in the coverage of our own artillery. 3rd Battalion will relieve us. This is Bushi 1-0, out."

Yamada took a deep breath. "This is Staff Sergeant Yamada now taking command of 1st Platoon, B Company. Tiger Shark Two, do you copy, over?"

"Roger, this is Tiger Shark Two. Solid copy on that last transmit. What can we do for you, Sergeant?" asked Lt. Colonel Nakakawa Jiro, 1st Battalion Commander.

"We're cut off from the Americans. I believe they are still in the area. Are you in contact with them, over?"

"Roger, the Americans are two grids north of you."

"Solid copy. Command, we are without any armored support and are having difficulty keeping in contact with the other platoons. I am consolidating my squads to await reinforcements or until we can reestablished coms with friendlies, how copy?"

Colonel Nakakawa sighed. His three rifle companies and weapon company had been spread out. His mortars were fully engaged and couldn't keep up with the needed fire support and his anti-tank platoon was struggling to repel the Yugoslav armored attacks. Colonel Kunisaki Kenji was behind him yelling into a mic at his aviation group to get in the air and at Navy.

"You idiots get your asses in the air! We're losing marines left and right!" shouted the colonel.

"You're doing a good job, Sergeant. Hold position once you have your marines consolidated, how copy?" asked Nakakawa.

"Solid copy. Bushi 1-0, out."

"Jiro, have we heard anything from Captain Toyosaki?" asked Kunisaki while taking a break from being belligerent with his aviators.

"Bushi Leader? Ie, hanashi inai (No, I haven't spoken with him)," said Nakakawa.

"We're losing too many officers," growled Kunisaki. "Track him down. His platoons aren't being coordinated and it's clear he isn't leading B Company."

"Hai, Colonel," said Nakakawa picking up his mic. "You know he may already be dead in which case there is no one in command of an entire rifle company."

"You think I haven't thought of that?" asked Kunisaki. "We have two badly wounded lieutenants, one dead, and a missing captain in 2nd Battalion."

"Hai, sir," said Nakakawa. "Moshi moshi? This is Tiger Shark Two, is this Bushi Leader? Moshi moshi? Soko wa mina (Is anyone there)?"

"I don't like what I'm hearing over there, Jiro," said Kunisaki. "Shit, I don't like what I'm hearing right here. The Navy doesn't know where any of our guys are. They have some JNA positions pegged with UAVs and have been shelling them."

"And the Naval Air Force?"

"It seems our friendly neighborhood bandits detected our carrier and are attacking it."

"Dammit," cursed Nakakawa under his breath. "Land based? Yanki?"

"Hang on," said Kunisaki. "Hello, this is Colonel Kunisaki, Japanese Federal Marine Corps. Are you American Navy?"

"Colonel you are speaking with Captain Meyer, USS Enterprise. How can the United States Navy be of service to you?" asked Captain Rodney Meyer.

"We have a problem. Are own carrier, Soryū, is under attack by the enemy. My marines are without air cover."

"I see," said the elderly captain stirring his coffee. "Well, we'll just have to change that, won't we? I'll have a squadron scramble. They'll need targets marked for them."

"Thank you, Captain. I will inform my marines."

Mikoto and Karen were running low on munitions. The JNA were relentless in their attacks and it was hard to tell if they were hitting them. There was an obvious level of skill in these soldiers and they were careful. They never launched full frontal attacks, but would probe and push close to the Japanese. If they found a weak spot they would try to press on it and if not they would fall back to a more advantageous location.

"Where are our tanks?" asked Mikoto.

"I wonder where are planes are. I haven't seen them at all," said Karen looking worried. "And where is the Army?"

Tanazaki was looking pale face. She wasn't moving or speaking… or fighting. It was obvious she at her breaking point. The fear of death had her clamped down.

"Ryō-chan? Are you still with us?" shouted Mikoto. She got no answer. "Dammit, Haruki, Kenji, Hiroyoshi, where are you guys?"

"Nemu Amida Butsu," chanted Karen. She was praying to the Amida Buddha, or Amitabha in his original Sanskrit name, the Buddha of Healing, the Buddha of the Pure Land and one of the most widely practiced forms of Buddhism in Japan.

"What the fuck is this?" shouted a new voice. It was Lance Corporal Tanabe. He dropped a bag he had stuffed full of ammo.

"Where the hell did you get that?" Mikoto nearly demanded.

"Picked it off our dead. We need it more than them," said Tanabe passing out mags of NATO 5.52 rounds.

"Good thinking," said Karen. "Where's your team?"

"Gone. Takanawa died this morning, you guys saw that. Cpl. Kisaki took one in the chest. The medics hauled him to the rear. And I have no idea where Mihama is, he might still be alive, but I guess he's MIA for now. Who's in charge?" asked Tanabe.

"Of what?" asked Karen pulling out a few 7.62x51 mm rounds that Tanabe had recovered.

"Anything? My radio got blown out," said Tanabe pointing to his helmet. There was a hole in his helmet and a few wires and circuits were exposed. Mikoto looked into Tanabe's eyes. He was having the opposite response to Tanazaki. He had had his brush with death and his mind seemed to have disconnected. He was beyond fear. He had accepted death. He was like Yamada, completely calm.

"Yamada is now running our platoon. No one knows where Captain Toyosaki is or the Americans or the Army or our fucking air support," said Mikoto throwing her arms up in mock celebration. "We're stuck in this little building waiting for someone to save us while Yamada in the next room tries to figure out how pull off a miracle."

"Don't you know, PFC Hanai?" asked Tanabe with a grin. "Miracles are made, not given. We just need to work harder."

He patted her on the shoulder. Mikoto was dumbfounded by his confidence. He wasn't even a veteran.

"Oi, Tanazaki," said Tanabe who was now squatting down in front of her. She didn't respond. He knocked on her helmet. "You still there?"

Tanabe suddenly looked angry. "Oi, bitch! Wake up!"

She didn't respond. Tanabe slapped her across the face. Tanazaki sputtered in shock and looked around as if waking up. She then looked at Tanabe with surprise and her mouth hanging open. "What happened to the cocky little bitch from this morning? You giving up? I don't know about you, but I intend to go home a war hero, get married, start my own business, have four kids, and become prime minister. You ain't messing up my plans! Start shooting!"

Shaking, she got to her feet. Tanazaki looked like she was going to be sick.

"That's right. Kill or be killed," barked Tanabe.

"Oi, who put you in charge?" asked Karen.

"I did," said Tanabe simply.

"Fuck, you're so simple," said Mikoto annoyed.

Tanabe ignored her and leaned in close to Tanazaki. He spoke in her ear, "What are you waiting for? Impress me."

Tanazaki felt tears falling trickle down her dirt covered checks. It left obvious trails. She could only hear distant echoes like everything around her was underwater. She could only see one Yugoslav soldier in front of her 50 meters away. He looked older than her, but she couldn't see his eyes. The eyes were obscured by his helmet. She couldn't understand why he would shoot her or why she should shoot him. The man raised his M-70 and there was a white flash from the muzzle.

She couldn't hear Mikoto or Karen screaming for her to back down or them yelling at Tanabe to stop her. She her a high pitched noise of something small passing her ear. She felt something sting her. She put her hand to her ear and then brought her hand in front of her to see. It was scarlet. Blood.

"Mimasu ka (You see)?" asked Tanabe. It was like they were alone in a soundproof room. His voice was so clear. "This is war. You must kill him."

Tanazaki looked up. More tears fell. Then she screamed, "I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

She raised her rifle and fired the entire magazine. The Yugoslavian soldier went down after the first two hits, but Tanazaki was still emptying rounds in his direction even after he had fallen out of sight. She reloaded and kept shooting anything in front of her that moved.

Suddenly the whole scene in front of her exploded. She thought for one moment she had caused it somehow, but she felt Tanabe touch her shoulder. He pointed at the sky and she saw the planes, USN F-18s.

"It's over," he said before walking away.

Tanazaki watched him leave. She looked down at her hands, at her gun, and at the grizzly seen before her. She walked to a blown out window on trembling legs. She leaned out and then emptied all the contents of her stomach much the same way she had emptied her gun. She kept retching long after she was dry and then circled into a ball and cried long and loud. No one went to her. Many were in as bad a state as her, but Tanazaki was the most obvious and loudest.

Mikoto was fiddling with her ring. Dirt had gotten under it and it was now starting to cut into her finger. Finally Karen grabbed her hand to make her stop. She hugged her friend and said, "Daijobou wa yo. Daijobou."

Karen wondered if that was true. It was almost noon and there was no sign of anyone. They had never been so alone before.

"Tungjatjeta (Hello)?" spoke a new voice.

Karen drew out her H&K USP 45 and aimed it at the head of an old man.

"Jo, jo (No, no)! I'm Albanian, don't shoot!" said the man raising his hands. "Please, let me help. You are Americans, po (yes)?"

"Papa, they cannot speak Albanian," said a younger man. He handed Mikoto and Karen a small loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese. In broken English the younger man said, "This good, yes?"

"Arigato gozaimasu," said Karen breathlessly.

"Eh? I no understand," said the man. He looked at the uniforms the women were wearing. "Papa, these are not Americans."

"I thought they were. They have Orientals like them there I hear," said the old man.

"Po, but this isn't the American Flag. This must be the Japanese," said the younger man reading through a booklet. It was then that Mikoto noticed the man had an M-70 slung over his shoulder and a crude red armband with an even cruder looking two-headed black eagle. They were the resistance.

"Tell the others. I'll keep looking for the Americans," said the old man. His son nodded and they both went off in separate directions. Mikoto and Karen just watched them go.

Tanazaki was walking around the building ghost like. She couldn't really tell what it was once before. She turned a corner and found Tanabe seated on the floor. He was sweating and looked ill. In fact there was a pool of vomit on another corner.

"Konnichiwa," she said hoarsely.

"Konnichiwa," he said back. She sat next to him. "Gomennasai."

"Doshite (why)?" asked Tanazaki.

"For hitting you, making you kill, and lying."

"About being prime minster?"

"Can you see me running this country?"

"You're running this team," said pointed out. Neither were looking at each other.

"So? Doesn't mean shit. I was the only one keeping my head."

"That means a lot."

"No it doesn't," he said. Tanazaki noticed the dogtags in his hands. "Takanawa was a cool guy, but wasn't smart. He thought we'd just fire our guns a little and then we'd all go home. Baka. He was really into this military shit."

"Tomodachi (friends)?"

"Betsu ni (Not really). We didn't really get along. He was one of those cool jocks in school and I was the loner."

"How did you stay so strong?"

Tanabe was quiet for a while. "Nothing really to lose. Not a lot of friends or family that will care. If I die trying to do something good then maybe someone will give a fuck. The bottom line. We are dead already, Tanazaki. We must fight and then maybe one day we'll live again."

"So that stuff about getting married and the rest of it is bullshit?"

"I would have said anything to get you moving again," he said.

"Why me?"

"Because you were in the worst condition," he said. "If I got you back on your feet the others would take notice. Hanai and Ichijō bounced back a little after you started shooting."

"So I was a means to an end," she said.

"The world is cruel that way. I learned that a long time ago. You accept the things you are dealt and then try to work with it," said Tanabe flatly.

"I don't think I can do this."

"We're all stronger than we think. Humans can do some pretty fucking amazing things in the worst of times," said Tanabe with a little chuckle. "If we stick together, we can make miracles happen. Onee-chan taught me that."

"Sou ka?" she asked. Tanazaki was quiet for a while and then asked, "Onamae wa (What's your name)? I've only heard people call you by your family name."

"My parents called me Tomoya, but when I was born I was named Mikhail."

"Why?"

"I wasn't born in Nihon."

"Mikhail is from where?"

"Sakhalin," he said stoically.

"Russia?" asked Tanazaki curiously. She had never met a Russian before.

"Da," he answered.

"And you speak Russian too?" asked Tanazaki, she sounded impressed rather than shocked or repulsed.

"I lived there for 12 years. 12 years knowing like all good Marxist that I would serve in the Red Army."

"How do you say that in Russia?" she asked curiously.

"You've killed dozens of men, what just as many die, had a mental break, and find out you're keeping company with a former Communist and Soviet citizen, and the only thing you ask is how I say Red Army in Russian?"

"Maybe I went a little crazy today," said Tanazaki.

"Kami-sama… sigh, Krasnaya Armiya," said Tanabe.

"Cool," said Tanazaki. "I wished I spoke another language."

Tanabe rolled his eyes. He listened to Tanazaki keep talking. She was clearly trying to deal with the events of today by talking.

* * *

**1207 Hours; April 30****th****, 2012; south of Sarandë, Highway-6; Vlorë County, Republic of Albania**

"Come on! Hayaku (hurry)!" shouted Lt. Urashima. It wasn't often they heard their platoon leader in a bad mood, but at the moment he sounded pissed. He wasn't alone either. 2nd Battalion was being held up by 3rd Battalion's delays. Some of the officers were calling to leave the 3rd behind and let 1st and 2nd proceed on their own. Colonel Daijin was one of them, but their brigade commander disagreed with letting the inexperienced troops being left behind.

"Do we have any intel on the situation in Sarandë?" asked Sergeant 1st Class Sakashita into her radio. She was speaking with someone at battalion intelligence.

"Akiko, SITREP," ordered Urashima.

"The Americans are cut off from our marines, but they still hold lines of communication with the port. Some of our marines are missing officers and there is communication problems plaguing them. The S2 is unclear whether it is caused by external forces or equipment failure. The 1st Marine Battalion is cut off and spread out. The enemy has them isolated, but it seems they haven't quite figured it out yet. There is an American carrier providing air cover now."

"I see," said Urashima.

"Echo 4-0, 5-1 here. Requesting SITREP. My guys are worried and want to know how long are we out from our primary objective, over."

"4-0 copies, we are one klick out and will begin our attack soon. Lock and load, Sergeant."

"Already done, sir. 5-1 out," said Hiroyoshi.

"Are we waiting on 3rd again?" asked Haruki with a look that could kill.

"I know you're worried, but there isn't much we can do. The 3rd is being bogged down," said Hiroyoshi. He was pissed too. Mikoto was a friend of his and so was Karen. He also understood Haruki's concerns. "But we're also not in position ourselves."

"Are you people ready?" Captain Hitsugaya asked as he walked around inspecting his company.

"Hai, Captain!" responded 5th squad.

"Nice to know someone is," muttered the Captain. All the officers were under a lot of stress and it was going from the 2nd Combat Brigade HQ to the platoon leaders. Colonel Daijin was probably still in Greece at the regiment HQ and yelling at 3rd Battalion's commander. Major Nara was pacing around his HQ which had set up a few kilometers south of them. Japanese commanders at the middle level, major and colonel, liked to stay closer to the front, but not in the battle itself. For lack of anything else, Captain Hitsugaya was stomping around his company and apparently not happy with what he saw even though all three platoons were ready.

"Oi, Toshiro, calm down," said Lt. Matsumoto.

"Hai, hai," said Hitsugaya dismissively. "I'll just run down to the local café and have a nice relaxing cup of tea and then maybe go to a fucking spa."

"Toshiro, what would Momo-chan say at such language?" said Matsumoto shaking her head mockingly.

"She's in the fucking Navy! I somehow don't picture them being all silver tongued," he barked. Lt. Minegishi was sitting on the hood of a LAV and watching this exchange of words. He was fidgeting with his USP 45. He would press the clip release and let it slide out halfway and then push it back in. He didn't want to invite his captain's bad mood on himself.

"What is 3rd Battalion's problem?" he muttered to himself.

3rd Battalion consisted of Guardian Company, Hollow Company, and Indy Company. G and H Companies were tank companies and I Company was the infantry unit to support the tanks. 2nd Battalion had their own tanks in Dogwood Company, but some of G Company's tanks were supporting the other companies. This left H and I Companies to try to fight an experience enemy on their own… it was not going well.

"The front line guys were pretty easy," noted Lt. Urashima joining in the conversation. "The earlier guys spoke Serbian. They're probably Serbian conscripts and maybe some conscripts from Montenegro too. I haven't seen Bosnian, Croatians, Slovenians, or Macedonians. These guys are probably a senior unit of some kind."

"Does this tell you anything?" asked Matsumoto pulling out a patch from her pocket. "I cut this off a dead soldier's uniform and thought I'd pass it on to battalion S2."

Urashima's face darkened and he nodded. "Ee. The tiger is the mark of a Serbian home guard unit. They're quite infamous."

"For what?" asked Lt. Minegishi curiously.

"Rape and wholesale slaughter of Slavic-Muslims during the Bosnian War," said Urashima.

"And who are we fighting right now?" asked Minegishi pulling out another unit patch he had picked up from a dead officer as a souvenir.

"Hmmm, this is Serbian. Red should with crossed swords with the insignia of all Serbian land units. 3rd Guards Motor-Rifle Division," said Urashima Keitaro with a look of recognition.

"Who are they?" asked Matsumoto.

"They spearheaded the Serbian's invasion of Croatia," said Lt. Urashima. "I read up on the reformation of Yugoslavia after the Korean War ended. They call them Belgrade's Fist in Serbia. In Croatia they call them Belgrade's Enforcer. They don't waste their time terrorizing civilians like some Serbian units were known for, but they are known for viciously crushing rebellions and resistance. Croatia was strong, but their army just wasn't ready to fight these guys."

"And that's who are holding Sarandë?" asked Hitsugaya throwing up his hands in frustration.

"Unfortunately."

In her HQ to the rear, Colonel Daijin seemed to be containing her anger. She had had the Air Force blast a very large path in front of 3rd Battalion, but it seemed the officers were making little progress or would clumsily stumble upon surviving KoV units.

"An enemy lesser than us, but more experienced," said Command Master Sergeant Neya to his superior.

"Thanks for your input, Neya," said Colonel Daijin.

"Ma'am," he said. "With all due respect…"

"Go on, Neya," said Daijin resting her face in her palm. She sounded tired. She was mentally exhausted, but Neya rarely spoke up more than necessary since he preferred to observe.

"It seems to me that you are a colonel of the Federal Army," said Neya.

"That seems to be the case," said Daijin flatly.

"Hai. You are a considered a senior officer," he noted.

"Hai. Major, lieutenant colonel, and colonel are senior as we are all taught. First and second lieutenant and captain are junior officers," said Daijin. "We're taught this at basic and I learnt that at the officers' academy and I'm sure you learned that at the NCO school. We also should know we aren't flag officers: brigadier general, major general, lieutenant general, and general."

"But the flag officer doesn't have your experience. You have more combat and command experience than the brigade commander. In my opinion, Lt. General Honnoji would be willing to give you a little slack."

Daijin played with a loose strand of hair while she considered her options.

"2nd Battalion is only a kilometer away from the city. If they were to engage the enemy they could do so without being too far out of position. 1st Battalion could move up too with them. Then you could recall G Company. 2nd Battalion I think could press forward without them and 1st Battalion could take pressure off of them," said Neya pointing to the map. Daijin remained silent.

"Colonel Matsuda and Colonel Minami also I think share your frustrations," said Neya. "If you had your battalions advance without 3rd, then I think Colonel Minami's 82nd Infantry would probably cover the gap."

"Give me the phone, Neya," said Daijin quietly.

"Sumimasen (sorry)... nani?" sputtered Major Nara in secure phone which he used to speak with other command posts and his superiors.

"You object to your new orders, Major?" asked Daijin.

"Ieie, I'm just surprised by them. Will Yoroi Uma Four be following these new orders as well, ma'am?"

"Hai. Yoroi Uma Three will be following his new orders as well. He will recall G Company to move things along with 3rd Battalion."

"Wakarimashita," said Nara.

"Also there is no need to tell Brigadier General Hojo," said Colonel Daijin.

"Honto desu ka (really)? … hai, wakarimashita. It will most likely be for the best," said Nara. Brigadier General Hojo had been their regiment CO during the Korean War. He had replaced their old brigade commander and Daijin had taken his place. Hojo would normally be on their side, but the flag officers were under pressure to stick with the Americans' plan.

"If any questions come from brigade command, you will disregard them. I will take responsibility. You will only be acting on my orders," assured Daijin.

"Of course ma'am," said Nara. "… I am grateful for your trust in us. We trust your judgment, Colonel."

Nara hung up with those words.

"You're subordinates have great faith in you, ma'am," added Neya standing at attention by her side. He also handed her a letter.

"A letter of resignation?"

"I have been your aide for five years when you became battalion commander," he said. A rare smile appeared on his lips. "I'm afraid I could never serve another officer."

"That's very kind of you, Neya," said Daijin, more than a little touched. She reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"You have your orders," said Major Nara. "Begin now. We move all at once. The redeployment of G Company will probably confuse the enemy. We rely on D Company solely for armored support. I wish you all the best and may Amaterasu-no-Kami-sama smiled upon us today."

Nara himself was a Buddhist, but it seemed inappropriate to use a Buddha in the context of a war… other than to end it. Besides, most Asians would patron other gods of other religions (1). In his mind Nara said a prayer to Nihon (Japan), Tennō (Emperor), and anything he could think of that had some divine power. Nara wondered why they would mention the Emperor in speeches and prayers. Was it patriotism? It didn't seem very democratic to think of their Emperor. Akihito-Tennō was only a figure head, but he still commanded the respect and love of his people.

"All companies reporting ready statuses across the board, sir," said Nara's S6, communication officer.

"Arigato, Captain. Hajimemasu (begin)," ordered Nara.

"Forward! Rotate!" barked a tank commander at his crew. Dogwood Company had two Type 90s and two more Type 10s. It was the only actual tanks the battalion had since they were supposed to rely on 3rd Battalion to provide most of the needed tanks. Major Nara was hoping the Type 89 IFVs would be enough if he used them smartly. They were near clones of the American M2 Bradley and in the 1990 Gulf War the Bradleys destroyed more Iraqi tanks than the American M1A1 Abrams. The Americans had proven that used wisely and under the right circumstances the infantry fighting vehicle could be deadlier than an actual tank. It was a matter of making sure the enemy tanks never had a chance to shoot first.

"Can it be done?" asked his S1, his chief of staff.

"Hai. The Americans have proven it can be in Operation: Desert Storm."

"But that was over 20 years ago," pointed out the S1. "And it was in the desert and against the Iraqi Army."

"I don't think it's so different," said Nara. "The farmlands of Albania is hardly better than sand and the M-84 is roughly the same as a T-72 which was the main tank the Iraqis used. Also once in the city an IFV could maneuver better than a tank. We're probably 40 years ahead of their military in technology."

"They had better air support in Iraq," pointed out the S1. "Those SAMs have been a real problem."

Now that the surprise had worn off the Yugoslavians were mobilizing their defenses. The Yugoslav People's Army's textbook stated the key to defeating a Western army was denying them air support. The textbooks also stated that they realistically couldn't defeat them in the air. Instead the JNA chose to fight NATO's air forces from the ground with anti-air artillery and surface-to-air missiles. Yugoslav anti-air defenses were elaborate and highly effective.

"I know. Yugoslavia thinks without our planes we are powerless. I think they're wrong," said Nara watching 2nd Battalion advance on the JNA's outer defenses.

A one minute artillery barrage rained down on the KoVs positions. 60 seconds barrage sounded short until one experienced it. It was hard to imagine a time when artillery barrages would last for days such as the Battle of the Somme where over 1,300 guns fired a total of 1.5 million shells at the German lines for nearly a week. In modern warfare it was considered too costly and unnecessary when generals had GPS supported howitzers and the things that General Rawlinson or von Below couldn't have even dreamed of in 1916.

Kenji had his bayonet mounted as he jogged towards the KoV lines. He hoped he wouldn't find himself close enough to the enemy to use it, but better safe than sorry.

He saw a figure emerge from a smoking sandbag bunker that had collapsed during the barrage. Kenji only took long enough to identify him as the enemy before he fired two rounds into the soldier's chest. Kenji didn't even bother to watch him crumple on the ground. His objective was to keep up to Haruki who seemed to be determined to blast anything that remotely got in his way.

Haruki he noticed seemed to pause ahead.

"Damnit, Haruki. You can leave your team behind," growled Kenji as he ran to reach him. "If you get shot who will run this team?"

"Probably be you," said Pvt. Junpei Miho also arriving. "Shit, I feel so out of shape."

"Exactly. I'm the PFC so I'd be in charge and who wants that," berated Kenji.

"Ee, I suppose," said Haruki not really paying attention. "Kenji?"

"Hai?" responded Kenji sounding annoyed.

"Where the hell are we? Better yet, we're the hell is everyone else?" asked Haruki looking around.

"Nani? Ah, shit," groaned Kenji. They were standing in the middle of open ground with a shallow trench that the KoV had abandoned right behind them. They could see vehicles and infantry all around them, but they couldn't seem to locate the rest of their squad.

"Nice going Columbus-san," said Kazu.

"Donata (Who)?" asked Kenji.

"He was some Westerner who discovered America (2)," said Miho.

"Not now, Miho," said Haruki. "Where the hell is Asou?"

"I don't know, but I see 6th Squad at 1 O'clock," said Kenji.

"Eh? I see. Okay, we can't be too far from our squad then. We'll just go a little west and we'll probably find them," ordered Haruki.

"Sounds like a plan," said Kenji patting him on the shoulder.

"Why doesn't that comfort me?" asked Kazu as he picked up his M60.

They kept going forward until they reached a paved road. There was a cluster of buildings ahead and they could hear shooting all around. A Type 89 drove past them heading up the road followed by a platoon of soldiers.

"Oi, are you guys 1st Platoon?" asked Kenji.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" called out a soldier as he dashed by. "This is 2nd Platoon D Company. What the hell is Echo Company doing here?"

"Shit," cursed Haruki. "Echo 5-1, 5-9. What is your location, over?"

"Anything?" asked Miho.

"Ie," said Haruki.

"Fucking…," muttered Kazu.

A machine gun suddenly opened up on them. Kazu wielded around and pulled the trigger. He was met with a heart stopping click.

"Fuck!" shouted Kazu as he dashed for cover. Of all the times for the M60 to jam and it had to be when it was most needed. Kenji returned fire while Kazu dived behind a tool shed. He couldn't help but notice the volume of fire increase as more KoV soldiers joined in the fight. Kazu meanwhile set down his M60. He pushed the bolt forward and back. An empty casing ejected from the light machine gun. A bullet burst through the shed and zoomed past his ear. He dropped to his stomach as more rounds penetrated one side of the wooden shed and come out the other.

"Just run!" shouted Haruki as he ran past Kazu. Miho ran after him racing for the houses like Haruki was. Kazu stood and ran after them with Kenji behind him. They rallied at the back door of a brick house. Kenji noticed an older man looking out a window at them and then retreat into his house when he saw he was spotted.

"This is great," said Miho sarcastically.

"No kidding, ne?" responded Kenji.

"Shimata (damn)," cursed Haruki.

"Look, Haruki," said Kenji to him quietly. "I know you're worried. I am too, but you need to get your shit together before you get us all killed."

"Wakatta, wakatta (I know, I know)," he said sliding down against the brick wall.

"Look. We can do this. We've done some stupid stuff before, ne?" said Kenji consolingly.

"We don't know are location. We don't know what strength of the OPFOR (Opposing Force) is. We don't where our squad or platoon is. Let's see… what else we do not know?" said Haruki.

"Sou nee… but we really can't stay here and-"

The door they were sitting next opened and all four of them swung around to face it. The man Kenji saw look out at them earlier, who appeared to be in his 40s, emerged from it. He was clutching an old Russian PM. He wore grey pants held up by brown suspenders and a white collared shirt. He had a grey flat cap and a grey wool jacket with an Albanian flag armband. Behind him was a younger man in his 20s, probably his son. The younger man had jeans on with a green T-shirt and a brown windbreaker with the same armband. In his hands was a double-barrel shotgun.

The four Japanese soldiers looked at each other and then slowly and hesitantly they each raised a hand in greeting which was returned a little more enthusiastically by the Albanian resistance fighters.

"And who speaks Albanian?" asked Kazu.

"Lt. Urashima," answered Miho slapping a hand to her forehead in frustration. "And Kami-sama knows where he is."

"What kind of government sends their military to war where they can't communicate if the locals?" asked Kazu.

"Ours apparently," said Haruki glumly.

"Somehow I don't picture the Americans or British to speak their language either," said Kenji.

A bullet ricocheted off the corner of the house.

"Time for talking is over," said Haruki standing up. He slowly approached the corner and peaked around for a second. Then he quickly withdrew. "Good news, there's only three of them coming."

"You see the MG?" asked Kenji.

"Hai. It's at the wrong angle. It can still shot at us, but if we get to the next house then we're outside of its coverage zone," said Haruki. Haruki suddenly leaned around the corner and fired a two short bursts mowing down the three Yugoslav soldiers. Kenji, Miho, and Kazu ran to the next house jumping over a low fence. Their new friends attempted to approached the dead KoV soldiers with the intend of taking their weapons, but were intercepted by Haruki who gesticulated at a window across the stress. They got the message.

"Do you know what was in that window?" asked the son.

"Po. I saw a soldier. It was probably dangerous," answered the father. "Where is Agon? We need someone who speaks English."

"Papa, these aren't Americans," chided the son.

"So, they are English then," said the father.

"Po. That isn't English they're speaking. They are Asian."

"Who in NATO is from Asia? They must be Americans or English," insisted the father.

The son rolled his eyes. He approached the woman and spoke to her, "Tungjatjeta. Quhem Prek Rama (Hello. I am Prek Rama)."

Miho cocked her head to the side. On the first word he held up a hand in greeting and on the next sentence he pointed to himself. She deduced he was introducing himself. "Hajimemashite. Watashi wa Jupei Miho de gozaimasu. Yoroshiku."

"Shqiptarë (Albanian)," he said. It then dawned on Prek that that wasn't the word most countries used for his people. He tried to remember what Agon said they were called by the English-speaking countries. "Albania."

Miho understood the second word, but in Japan they called it Arubanya. "Nihon… eto, Japan."

"Japan?" repeated Prek.

"What is a Japan?" asked his father.

"A country in Asia. Very far away. Near China. They're an island country like the English," said Prek.

"Come on, Miho," said Kenji. "I think we're behind the MG."

Just as he said that they saw the machine gunner running up the street with a couple of riflemen behind him.

"They're retreating," noted Kazu.

Haruki went between the houses to the street. He raised his rifle and fired round at the machine gunner. He missed. There were a much louder shot from Kenji's automatic rifle which hit one of the riflemen. The others turned around and started to return fire.

Prek and his father took cover by the side wall of a house. Their weapons did not have enough range to hit an enemy over 100 meters away. Kazu dropped to his stomach and let his M60 rest on its bipod. He started to return fire. Kazu fired at the soldiers who were most exposed first letting Kenji, Miho, and Haruki to pick off the ones lying in the prone or behind cars.

Kenji fired at the machine gunner who took refuge behind a Ford pickup truck that was parked on the street. Kenji knew he was going to set up his gun. There were still five other riflemen so the KoV had numbers. Kenji aimed for the fuel tank. The steel jacketed ammo struck it. Fuel started to pour onto the pavement. Kenji did not know that shooting a fuel tank would not cause it to explode unless there was a source. He fired again. Kenji did not realize how lucky he was because the next shot was a tracer which was a normal round coated in burning phosphorous so it would shine red. Kenji also didn't know he was lucky that the truck ran on gasoline instead of diesel (3).

The soldiers scattered and disappeared between houses… or the ones that weren't cut down by the Japanese. Haruki started jogging up the street. As he got nearer he slowed and raised his rifle ready for an ambush. He heard a gasping noise and saw one of the Serbians. He had been shot in the chest and was coughing up blood.

"Lung shot, ne," he spoke aloud. He noticed Kenji was poking around the burning pickup truck for signs of the machine gunner. Kenji eventually found him in the yard next door burnt and dead.

When Haruki turned back to the dying soldier he saw Prek standing over him. Prek looked down in disgust and raised his shotgun. The Serb spluttered and seemed to be trying to say something. Haruki couldn't tell if he was forming words successfully or not. Prek spat an angry respond in his face and fired both barrels. Prek then took the soldier's rifle, an M-70.

They heard another shot fired nearby. Another Albanian had arrived. He was armed with a hunting rifle with a scope. He was dressed similarly to Prek's father and seemed close to his age.

"Enver, it's good to see you," said the father.

"You too, Jozef, and little Prek too. How is your wife?" said Enver.

"Well enough as we can be at these times. Mother you watching over her," answered Prek.

"Oh good, you found the Americans," said Enver approvingly.

"Po. They're Japanese."

"… what is a Japanese?" asked Enver. Enver and Jozef had grown up during the time when Albania had been a member of the Warsaw Pact and an ally of the Soviet Union… and a grudging ally of Yugoslavia. Socialist People's Republic of Albania had been a very poor country and many people were not well educated. Before the Communist Albania had 85% illiteracy and its end 98.7% of Albania was literate. Most modern Albanians were educated to a fair degree. Nearly all of them had an elementary school education and most had secondary school education. Enver and Jozef however had not done well in school and were not motivated when they knew all paths would lead to state farms or factories. The only country in Asia they could name was China and neither of them could find it on a map.

"Some country near China," said Jozef.

"Then they are Chinese?" asked Enver.

"Have you seen Agon?" asked Prek annoyed. He was hoping to find someone more educated. Agon was the only one in their neighborhood to attend a state university.

Haruki was ignoring the Albanians. He was busy trying to locate Hiroyoshi.

"Haruki, I think I have Sgt. Sakashita," said Miho.

"Finally. Echo Blue? Echo 5-9. We're… lost, ma'am," said Haruki.

"Standby," she said with a sigh. "Jā, you are 200 meters west of your squad. SITREP, over."

"We're good. We've made contact with the enemy previously. We have also made contact with the resistance. We can't understand them though. How copy?" said Haruki.

"Solid copy. We are sending you coordinates for a rallying point. How copy?"

"Solid copy," said Haruki.

"Why is he talking to himself?" asked Enver.

"I think it's a radio, Mr. Shehu," said Prek.

"Amazing the things these Americans have," said Enver clearly impressed.

"Japanese," corrected Prek.

"Jā, ikimashō ka (Well, shall we go)?" Miho asked the Albanians. She gestured that they should follow.

Haruki led them through backyards hoping to avoid encountering large concentrations of KoV soldiers. Occasionally they would encounter Albanians who would either wave at them or indicate that there were Yugoslavians in the area. Two more resistance fighters had joined them also. One was dressed in an Albanian Army combat uniform and had an old Chinese Type 56. The other man seemed to be of a middle class background or at least his clothes looked a little more expensive.

The soldier wore outdated blot style camouflage and a field cap instead of the helmet. Kenji recognized the uniform as American and one the US Army had discontinued until around 2002 when the US military adopted digital camouflage. The body armor was an old flak jacket. His rifle was Chinese made, but the rest had been made domestically.

"Aren't the Albanian Army supposed to be armed with newer guns?" asked Kenji. According to the NATO guidebook Albanian had been a member of the Warsaw Pact and hadn't updated their equipment until they joined NATO. They had been given old surplus of American M16A2s and Belgian FN FALs and there were plans to adopt newer weapons. Still some units had yet to be effected by this modernization plan.

The group eventually reached a T-intersection where a couple of vehicles were on fire. Corpses littered the area, some Albanian, some Serbian.

"Looks like a JNA convey," said Haruki.

"So da ne," agreed Kenji. "And these guys look like Albanian Army."

He turned one over with his boot and stared into the young blank eyes of an Albanian soldier. Not all of the Albanian military had been accounted for after the invasion. 2nd Brigade was told to expect assistance from Albanian soldiers hiding out in the hills and mountains, but they hadn't been told to expect them in Sarandë.

"Yamatte (halt)!" shouted someone from behind.

Haruki, Kenji, Kazu, and Miho turned in the direction of the voice not out of fear or surprise, but hope at hearing a familiar language.

"What the hell? What are you guys doing here?" demanded SSG Akiyama, 4th Squad leader.

"We got separated from Sgt. Asou, sir. We were unable to contact him or anyone until half hour ago. We were told to go to a point 50 meters from here, sir," explained Haruki.

Akiyama sighed and shook his head. "Ee, there have been a lot of com problems today. Hiroyoshi is not far. Double time it, Corporal."

"Hai, sir."

They went right at the intersection and jogged in the direction Akiyama had indicated. Finally they reached a gas station where they saw familiar faces.

"Nice of you guys to join us," said Renji seeing them coming. "Who are your friends?"

"Wakaranai. Just Albanian resistance fighters and the one soldier," said Kenji. "Who are yours?"

"More of the same," said Ichigo. "There was one who spoke English, but he took one to the chest and throat."

"We lose anyone?" asked Miho taking a seat.

"Ichiro got cut be some glass, but he's okay. I saw to that," said Ichigo. "The only other thing was Renji got hit in the head by a 2x4 that fell from an upper storey, but I doubt it did much. Not like any brain damage can happen to him."

"Oi!"

There was some sniggering at his expense.

"You guys okay?" asked a weary sounding Hiroyoshi.

"Hai," said Haruki. "My fault. I shouldn't have gotten so far away."

"Ee, you shouldn't have… but I should have kept a closer eye on you four," said Hiroyoshi. "Alright, this is the SITREP. The trip over here took a toll on some of our radios. A few in the battalion aren't working because of salt water exposure damage to circuits."

"Why didn't it affect us earlier or yesterday?" asked Haruki.

"Wakaranai (I don't know)," said Hiroyoshi. "Another problem is the radio traffic is being flooded with comms and for some reason we're getting the enemy's comms too. This is either their newest and greatest strategy or they're having similar problems with the atmospherics."

"The what?" asked Kenji completely lost.

"You know what an electromagnetic wave is, Kenji?" asked Hiroyoshi.

"… an electric magnetic wave?" he suggested.

"… close enough," said Hiroyoshi. Electromagnetism was too difficult to explain at a scientific level. "It is wave that comes in many forms. Many of them come from the sun. Our radios use radio waves which are low powered and can be hard to detect or microwaves which are shorter wavelengths and are harder to intercept. These things can be interrupted by another source of electromagnetic waves or physical matter."

"Like a cell phone doesn't work when you're in a tunnel?"

"Very good, Kenji," said Hiroyoshi mockingly. Kenji didn't appear amused. "Moving on. The sun can affect our communications sometimes with its waves or by affecting weather patterns."

"Sugoi (amazing). When did you learn all this?" asked Kenji.

"11 minutes ago. Lt. Urashima explained it," said Hiroyoshi.

"So what is the plan?" asked Haruki.

"Our officers are trying to talk down the unnecessary chatter and others are trying to figure out why we're getting our signals mixed with the Yukes."

"Mirëdita (good afternoon), Sergeant," greeted the Albanian soldier that had been following Haruki's team around.

"And you, Private. Who's squad do you belong to?"

"Sergeant Bakaj's squad, 9th Squad 3rd Battalion of the 30th Infantry Regiment," said the private.

"Oh. I heard what happened to him," said Sergeant Elis Bozhiqi of 2nd Squad of the same company. Sergeant Xhevahir Bakaj was captured last week by KoV security forces and executed. "You will follow my orders for now. At this time we are following the Japanese Army into the city. Do you speak English?"

"No, sir."

"Dammit. I need someone who can," grumbled Bozhiqi. He was unhappy with the situation. He couldn't reach the battalion rallying point and he couldn't communicate this problem with the only people that could help.

Hiroyoshi was having his own problems. He was inside the gas station looking at a map. NCOs were not encouraged to share maps with enlisted soldiers. There were no markings on the map, something even less encouraged. Sarandë sat on the north side of a bay and extended along the east side. The southeast side was dominated by a small mountain that the 80th Light Infantry was fighting for with stubborn JNA soldiers. The 81st were trying to push through the east side of the city. There was a narrow corridor ahead between the southeast mountain and the mountains to the north. It was big enough for a battalion, but was a natural choke point. If the 80th could take the mountain, designated Hill 201, and the southeast part of the city then the 81st could advance without walking into a killzone.

"Just what we don't need. Artillery, rockets, and mortars from both flanks," he muttered to himself. He folded the map and put it away. Hiroyoshi had orders to burn his maps if he thought he would be captured, but somehow it didn't seem necessary. There were no marks or arrows that pointed to his objectives or the Army's strategy. Besides, everything was written in Kanji or Kana. Hiroyoshi suspected that some of the educated Albanians understood and could read Chinese since China had been a major trade partner prior to the 1990s, but the Japanese grammar structure was very different.

Lt. Urashima was sitting in a local pub a block away. A young girl placed a cup of coffee in front of him and gave him a shy smile. Despite the battle the owner was keeping the place open. Keitaro didn't have any Lekë (4). He had four 1,000-en notes, an assortment of coins, one 1 Euro note, and some coins. He handed her a 500-en coin and a 100-en coin as a tip. Keitaro wasn't sure if Albania was a country where a tip was expected. Tipping wasn't in Japanese customs. The girl, who looked to be around 16, looked at the silver 500-en coin. She was confused to see 500 written boldly on one side and thought it was a mistake. She admired the strange letters and the image of bamboo and mandarin oranges on the other side. She smiled at him again and walked away admiring the foreign coins.

Keitaro had a map in front of him and a military laptop. Sakashita sat across from him listening to radio chatter. Two armed soldiers made sure that none of the Albanians got too interested in the business of their officer, but it seemed unlikely a spy would be there. The Albanian resistance was using the pub as a neighborhood HQ and the owner seemed to recognize anyone who didn't belong. So it was a matter of recognizing foreign soldiers that didn't belong and Keitaro would like to meet the Yugoslavian who could pass himself off as a Nihonjin.

"Seems we have our platoon back together. What are our fire support options?"

"Saa, some 81 mm mortars, 105s, a unit of 155s, whatever the Navy has offshore, one squadron of Apaches, and a US Navy aircraft carrier," said Sakashita.

"Is that for us or the regiment?" asked Urashima.

"The whole brigade," answered Sakashita.

"Of course," said Keitaro pinching his nose in annoyance. One brigade consisting of three combat regiments or nine rifle companies and three weapons companies. Fire support would be adequate, but he couldn't rely on it if he factored in the fact that every squad would be calling the same battery crews and aviators.

Captain Histugaya Tōshirō watched the Hill 201 with a pair of binoculars. Four black specs approached it from west. It was obvious to Hitsugaya that they were US Air Force fighters flying out of Italy. They were too far away to identify. Hitsugaya could barely see them release several bombs. He guessed they were the GBU-39 Small Diameter Bomb, a small light guided bomb. 2,000 lb was a pretty standard bomb weight, but the SDB only weighed 285 lb (129 kg) and could even penetrate several feet of concrete. As the fighters released their bombs and turned back to their base Hitsugaya saw they were F-16Cs. The Falcon had a very distinctive appearance.

"Eight bombs four planes equals 32 bombs," he muttered to himself. That flight was followed by a second flight of Fighting Falcons armed with CBU-87 cluster bombs. The Falcons would turn south after releasing their payloads to stay over NATO lines so they could avoid flying north over Hill 202. Hill 202 was a 'cluster-fuck' of SAMs and Triple-As.

"The Americans are pretty concerned about their marines," said Lt. Matsumoto walking up to her superior. "They want a major breakthrough."

"I'd like to be home in my apartment and reading about this shit as some abstract military theory and not my reality," said Hitsugaya bitterly.

"I know, but this time the Yanki are doing what they do best," she said with a grin.

"Go to exotic places, meet the people, and kill them?" asked Captain Hitsugaya. He'd heard Americans joke that that was the reason for joining the military.

"Projection of force," she answered.

"Honto (really)? Nani kuru (what is coming)?" asked an intrigued Hitsugaya. The United States was good at projecting virtually the same level of force any distance from their country.

"B-52s flying out of Rammstein. Their target is Hill 202," Matsumoto said. She knew her CO would want to know their target.

"If the 80th LI take or at least neutralize Hill 201 then we can advance while 202 is being blown into the last century. Perfect. We can make this work," he said with a satisfied smile. He only needed to coordinate with the other eight companies.

* * *

**2345 Hours; April 30****th****, 2012; 3,000 m (9,842.52 ft) above sea level, Tatary Strait; Sakhalin Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic, Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic**

**Eastern European Standard Time (UTC+2): 0445 Hours; April 30****th****, 2012**

Lt. Colonel Sergei Vladmirovich Kamarov thought this was a very stupid idea. He had orders to fly his Tu-22R over Japanese territory. Did the Far East Command of VVS piss off Moscow? Better yet, there was a Tu-22P flying with him. The Tu-22R was a recon plane and the Tu-22P was an electronic warfare plane capable of jamming the enemy or gathering electronic intelligence. This seemed to Kamarov to be an overt act of war made worse by fighter escort.

Yes. In the infinity wisdom of someone in Moscow nine MiG-25s were ordered to 'escort' the Shilo (awl), as the Tu-22 was known by its Russian pilots. He was pissed that no one seemed to know what they were supposed to do when they passed over Japanese waters. The Zampolit (political officer) was even seemed baffled. He was still at their base north the Tartary Strait wondering why the strange orders.

The fighter escort really annoyed Kamarov and his co-pilot. Although their squadron zampolit was trying to keep it quiet there were rumors of previous recon missions ending with the crew deserting. Kamarov just knew that Navy aviators left and never came back.

"Kingfish 2, this is Kingfish 1. We are at Checkpoint Mike. Begin turn in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, mark!"

"Turning, Comrade," responded the electronic warfare bird. The Shilo, or Blinder as NATO called it, could only fly at just under mach 2, but they were making good time.

"Bengal Tiger Leader, are you're fire control radars off?" asked Kamarov.

"Nyet, Comrade," answered the leader of fighter squadron

"Well turn them off. This is a covert mission and we do not need to attract the attention of the Imperialists' radar!" barked Kamarov.

"Da, Comrade Colonel," muttered Bengal Tiger 1-1. He switched it to standby. He was annoyed by those orders. He had his own orders from Moscow Central to make sure these planes returned.

"Okashii (weird)," muttered a petty officer.

"Nani?" asked an officer who was walking by her consol.

"On the edge of my screen there was some noise, but now it's gone," said the young woman.

"Show me," he ordered.

"Chotto matte kudasai (please wait)," she said. The Lieutenant JG looked at the contact and judged its appearance and characteristics.

"So ka," said the lieutenant. He picked up a hard-line phone. "Moshi moshi, Air Force? Hai, this is Wakkanai Station. We had a weak contact on radar, but it disappeared. It looked Soviet. It looked like one of their fire control radar sets… hai, we picked them up coming south along the west coast of Sakhalin. Hai, we'll keep an eye on it. Better have some planes on standby."

"Wakarimashita," said an Air Force Master Sergeant on the other end. He set down the phone and paused for a second. He dialed for the base commander at Sapporo AFB. From there the order was passed onto a smaller air base at Teshio. All along Hokkaido Northern Command's air defense network was coming alive.

Soviet listen posts in Sakhalin were observing the Japanese defenses. It annoyed the Japanese that the Soviets would provoke them and they would have no choice but to respond. The Japanese would try to counter this by limiting their wireless communications and limit the activity the Soviets could observe. Tonight however, Lt. General Kotoshima, Japanese Federal AF, decided to play his own little game with the Soviet Union.

"Ivan knows about our radar sites here, here, here, here, and here. Bring them all online. Scramble four squadrons and mobilize a third of our anti-air assets," he ordered his operations chief.

"Sir, isn't that overacting?"

"Exactly," he said with a grin. "I want to scare Ivan shitless."

"Hai, sir," nodded the colonel.

Kamarov felt his blood run cold. He'd done this sort of thing before, but the Japanese would react normally with only a few planes. His threat receiver was detecting the radar sets of an entire fighter wing. He also detected radar scans from frigates that would then turn it off so Kamarov couldn't get a fix on them.

"Kingfish 1, their network is coming alive. I don't know what is going on, but it seems like they're expecting to repel an invasion force."

Kingfish 2's electronic officer was convinced some of contacts weren't real, but the result of Japanese jamming devices. Still they were pretty sure that there were two Japanese squadrons on an intercept and a few surface ships.

In fact it was two fighter squadrons, four intercept squadrons, three frigates, and a destroyer. There were also gunboats putting to sea. On the Soviet's side of northern Sea of Japan Soviet Navy's frigates were in an advance state of panic. They had no warning of the Air Force's recon and ELINT (Electronic Intelligence) mission. So as far as the commander of a Krivak Class frigate was concerned the Japanese had gone to red alert for no reason.

The Soviet Pacific Fleet had no clue why the Japanese were going to red alert. One Captain 1st Rank did note that the Japanese were launching only their defensive units. That calmed down the Soviet naval commanders, but now they were puzzled as to why the Japanese were deploying their defenses. Was it a drill?

"Bengal Tiger Leader, what are you doing?" demanded Kamarov. His electronic operator detected fire control radar. Radar, like sonar, had distinctive characteristics unique to the country it came from. So when Kamarov's electronics officer detected Soviet fire control radar he had little difficulty solving such a great mystery.

"These bastards will not fire on us and they have no way of knowing we don't have those orders either," laughed Major Igor Pavelovich Slavin.

'What Party chieftain is he related to?' wondered Kamarov. He sincerely doubted someone so young and stupid could be a squadron commander without being related to someone higher-up.

"I'm detecting S and L Band search radar from the smaller aircraft. Shit, I'm also picking up their X-Band fire control radar too, Lead. Over," reported a female pilot.

"Roger that," said Red Snapper leader.

"Do we have authorization to shoot?" asked one of his flight leads.

"Negative."

"Oh this will be fun."

"Urasai (shut up)."

"Roger."

"Cut the chatter Red Snapper Squadron and White Titan Squadron. This is AWACS Overseer. All aircraft weapons safe. Rules of engagement: return fire only. How copy?"

"Solid copy, Overseer," responded White Titan Leader and Red Snapper Leader.

"This is Akai Jingu Leader, we're closing in along the north coast near Esashi. We're firewalling our engines and we'll have Ivan in range in of our Slammers in 4 minutes."

"Comrade Colonel, an entire Japanese interceptor wing is closing on us from the south and east. There are also Imperialist warships about, but we have not detected X-band radar searches. They probably don't have authorization to shoot," reported an electronics officer.

"Spa-see-ba, Comrade Warrant Officer," said Kamarov.

"They have me on their radar!" panicked one of the MiG pilots. "They're attacking."

"What? Negative!" shouted both Kamarov and Slavin. It was too late. One of the Foxbat pilots unleashed two R-40 (NATO: AA-6 Acrid) long range air-to-air missiles.

"Nan de? EHH! Missile lock? What the fuck is this?" cried a pilot.

"Don't go to pieces on me, Keisuke-kun! Drop flares and evade!"

"Hai, ma'am!"

The missile was launched too far away to be affective. The Japanese pilots had too much time to react for it to be a threat, but it was no less shocking.

"Do we return fire, Major?" asked a nervous pilot.

"Like hell! Blast those commie fucks!"

"2-3, what did you do?" shouted a stunned Slavin.

"We'll deal with this later. We need to return to base before… oh, shit," groaned Kamarov. An old Japanese Asagiri Class destroyer had suddenly switched its radar from standby to active and the very second they acquired a target they lobbed a pair of Sea Sparrow missiles at the Soviets. An Abukuma Class frigate suddenly opened fired too. JFS Jintsu, the frigate, was much closer than the destroyer and used its 76 mm main gun.

Kamarov was already turning his recon plane around. He knew he would be in trouble for aborting the mission, but he would be in worse trouble if he got shot down over Japanese waters where the Japanese could capture the wreckage. He pushed his plane to full afterburners knowing this wouldn't be fast enough to outrun a fighter plane. The Tu-22 was slower than the MiGs and Sukois of his country or the Eagles the Japanese use.

"Shit, blast those Soviet bastards!"

"Fox Three! Fox Three!"

AIM-54 Phoenix missiles were released from the Japanese fighters and screeched through the night air.

On the ground a conductor was smoke break. He was leaning against one of the columns at the small JR Hokkaido station on the Sōya Main Line between Asahikawa and Wakkanai, Japan's northern most train station. It was a cold night out, but not unusual for Hokkaido. Wakkanai was a popular tourist attraction in Hokkaido because it the most northern city in Japan and people the Sōya Cape. There was also a lot of military activity in Wakkanai. The Navy and Air Force both had radar sites in Wakkanai to spy on Soviet activities in Sakhalin and the Russian coastline. There were also anti-ship and anti-air positions set up. It wasn't uncommon for the conductor to see a freight train roll by his station with missile launchers, radar equipment, or marines out on drills. He was also used to the Air Force flying planes over head.

He only noticed them by chance. They were flying too high and fast for him to hear the F-15s coming. He noticed there were a lot of them, but it was hard to see by the night sky. His smile was illuminated by the light of his cigarette as he took a drag. He was proud of the younger generation. He had been worried that Japanese patriots were dying out, but he felt secure that Japan's young were truly ready to fight for the home islands. Suddenly the sky lit up as four planes released what were unmistakably missiles. The conductor's cigarette fell from his mouth as it fell open.

"What was that?" shouted the station manager from the ticket office.

Kamarov was preparing to make a hard turn north towards Sakhalin. The Voyska PVO (Air Defense Forces) were scrambling MiG-23s and the infamous Su-15 (5). The newer MiG-29s and MiG-31s were also launching out of bases in the RSFSR (Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic). He prayed, also reflected the irony of a good Marxist praying, that the Japanese would be scared off by influx of Soviet planes. He was not encouraged when his electronics officer reported increasing numbers of Japanese planes and more service ships mobilizing.

In Tokyo things were chaotic. Northern Command reported Soviet planes opening fire on their interceptors and that their pilots had returned fire. There were also confirmed reports of at least one Soviet plane being shot down and crashing into the Sāyo Strait between Hokkaido and Sakhalin. Now it was up to Tokyo HQ to decide if it was the precursor of a war between Japan and the USSR or a recon mission gone horribly wrong. The generals and admirals were deeply troubled. More Soviet planes were scrambling from what they could see and nearly every fighter plane based in Hokkaido was up in the air.

In the end they decided to not pursue the Soviets. Their planes would stay up for another half hour then they would start to recall them to their bases and hopefully be back to routine patrols by sunrise.

It wasn't until 10 am local time that both sides had reduced the numbers of their airborne fighters to routine patrols. NHK News would report the sketchy details they had available, which was basically for unknown reasons a Soviet fighter pilot opened fire on Japanese planes and was shot down by the Japanese interceptors. The Prime Minister would be outraged and spend the day trying to figure out whether it was the fault of his nation's air force or the Soviets. The troops in the Balkans would not receive the news until later the next day, Eastern European Time, not Tokyo Time.

So far neither Moscow nor Tokyo knew quite what happened.

* * *

Well, this is the chapter I've owed you guys for a while. I'm going to try and get to writing more.

Respectfully and Apologically

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. It is a very common practice in East Asia to practice one religion and patronize the gods of another. This is called syncretism. In China many of the past dynasties were Confucian officially, but many people would also practice Taoist and Mahayana Buddhism (Theravada Buddhism is rare in East Asia). In Japan Shintoism largely derives from its own origins, but would later draw considerably from Buddhism. East Asians do not naturally have the strict religious divisions seen in the West with Christianity, Islam, or Judaism. It is also not really considered sinful to patronize other religions like Christianity and others have. For the Japanese all Japanese are technically Shinto since it is so heavily a part of the culture, but a large part of the population might identify themselves as Buddhists, but still visit Shinto shrines. As Westerners we may find this a difficult concept to understand.

2. It should be noted that Christopher Columbus did not discover the Americas. Columbus was an Italian explorer who tried to find a faster route to Asia. Rumors had existed of the continents before him, but Columbus brought back the stories of the New World to Spain and can probably be accredited for informing Europe of the New World which brought about swarms of Spanish, British, French, Dutch, and Portuguese explorers and eventually colonists. The Vikings are the first known civilization to establish a colony. It is still debated who discovered the New World first. Many believe that the Chinese may had come first in 1421. Other information suggests that a tribe from Africa may have arrived in 1311. Legends in Ireland and Wales describe exploration in 1170. Chinese sources also describe possible Muslim sailors that reached a land they called Mu-Lan-Pi which could be part of the New World some point prior to 1178. Japan is also believed to have visited North America in the 13th Century. A Native American tribe called the Zuni has shown to be unusual compared to their neighbors in culture, language, ethnicity, and religion. The Zuni shown to have some similarities to the Japanese which had led to a theory that Japanese Buddhist priests visited the region.

3. The gasoline, or petrol, comes from hydrocarbons, or oil. Hydrocarbons are classified by the number of hydrogen atoms in its compound. Gasoline is primarily CH3(CH2)6CH3, or Octane which consists of eight carbon atoms. Gasoline is very flammable but requires Oxygen and a catalyst for a combustion reaction. Diesel fuel is additionally refined petroleum. Diesel is much more efficient and only requires Oxygen initially in a diesel engine. In military usage diesel is more popular because of its efficient in mileage, power, and life of the engine. Most of all gasoline when it catches fire explodes and creates a large flammable vapor that combines with oxygen and nitrogen in the air.

4. The Lek (Plural: Lekë) is the currency of the Republic of Albania. Subunit of currency is the Qindarkë (Prural: Qindarka). Coins include all qindarka and lekë from 1-100, 1 lek is rarely used. Banknotes start at 200 lek and go to 5,000 lek. 200, 500, and 1,000 lek are common. 100, 2,000, and 5,000 lek are rare. Albania is a member of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), but is not a member of the European Union (EU) and therefore do not use the Euro.

5. The Su-15 Flagon has an infamous history in East Asia. One of Voyska PVO's Su-15 Flagons flown by Major Gennadi Osipovich. The Flagon was retired from primarily used by Voyska PVO, no VVS (The Soviet Air Force). They were all tired from Russian service shortly after the fall of the Soviet Union. Only the Soviet Union, Russian Federation, and Ukraine used the Flagon. The latter being the last and retired them in 1996. In my story the Voyska PVO is still flying them. The real Soviets and even the Russians today hate throwing away working machinery no matter how old they are. Rumor has it that the Russians still have World WAR II era equipment in storage. The United States tends to keep their obsolete equipment for parts.


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